


i wanna hurry home to you

by roofpizza



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 20:51:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3354860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roofpizza/pseuds/roofpizza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>zayn is an actor; niall is a cameraman. hollywood sucks, but at least they've got each other</p><p> </p><p>  <a href="http://thrina.tumblr.com/post/111016017353">art</a></p><p> </p><p>  <a href="http://roofpizza.livejournal.com/3422.html">masterpost</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	i wanna hurry home to you

**Author's Note:**

> written for the third round of the 1d big bang! oh shit! this is my first long 1d fic/first long fic in years! shout out to all the people who made this possible aka my Crew...lc, b, juju--luv ya'll! shout-out to my sick-ass beta [3bookworm33](http://3bookworm33.tumblr.com) ur the wind beneath my wings etka etka...and shout-out to thrina my beauuuuutiful artist who's works are n*ce as hell! anyway hope y'all like it!!

He’d worn long sleeves in an effort to cover his tattoos, at the vehement insistence of his agent.

“They make you look unapproachable, and, frankly,” he’d said during a phone call because he couldn’t really be bothered to meet with Zayn in person, “a little scary.”

He’s reading for the part of some idiot frat guy for some idiot procedural that he can’t even remember the name of. He’s not going to get it; he knows this by the completely uninterested faces of the panel of three sitting in a long plastic table in front of him. The minute he walked in this room and they looked at his flannel and his knock-off Doc Martens they’d made up their minds about him. When they tell him that they’ll call him, he understands that what they’re actually saying is, “Clear the room quickly so we can find someone whiter, thanks.”

He’s not even out the door before he takes out his pack of cigarettes.

*

Zayn Malik graduated from Juilliard.

He doesn’t brag about this, doesn’t wear it on his chest like a lot of the people he’s met. It doesn’t make him any better or worse than anyone.

But a year ago Zayn Malik graduated from Juilliard and today he is waiting tables at a Red Robin.

He works ten hours a day at a fast food restaurant only to afford a shitty apartment with three other shitty wannabe actors/models/rappers who don’t talk to him, even when they bump into him at auditions. In the year and a half that he’s been in Los Angeles, he’s managed to book a commercial wherein all he did was stand around and look shocked in a sherwani and a guest spot in a medical drama in which he had to pretend to be bleeding to death.

Realistically, he figured that he wouldn’t hit the big time at arrival. He didn’t expect casting directors to be lining up outside the airport terminal when he arrived from New York. The least he expected was a group of equally down-on-their luck artist types to have a beer and complain about The Biz with.

He’s in the middle of his one smoke break of the day when his agent calls him. Zayn tries to be thankful and enthusiastic when he tells him that he’s snagged a part in a beer commercial.

“It’s national and everything!” he says, and Zayn stomps out his cigarette and thanks him again.

*

The camera guy keeps staring at him.

To be fair, the wardrobe people, the makeup artist, and one or two gaffers have stolen Zayn a lingering look or two. He’s as used to it as anyone in his position can get, but the camera guy is supposed to be focused on the subject of the commercial, not the sidekick that says “Sick, bro!” and takes a drink of the water they’ve replaced the beer with.

The camera guy is pointing the camera at the white guy talking but keeps stealing looks at Zayn and it’s distracting because Zayn may not have gotten a super good look at cameraman’s face, but he’s wearing a tank top and what he can see is—

Someone calls for a lunch break, and Zayn is thankful for the distraction.

The actors and the crew gather around the sandwiches stacked high on the craft service table. Zayn hangs back and looks over the pitiful salad on the other side of the table.

“You a vegetarian?” comes a voice from behind Zayn.

He turns, and of course it’s the cameraman, and of course he’s smiling and pale and _blonde_.

“Sort of?” Zayn responds. “I eat fish and chicken, and the occasional steak. I just…” He gestures to the crowd. “That doesn’t look very sanitary.”

Cameraman lets out a chuckle. “Savages, all of ‘em. Come on.” He starts walking away, gesturing for Zayn to follow him.

Zayn follows.

“I’m Niall, by the way,” Cameraman says over his shoulder as they make their way toward an exit. “And I'm not leading you to an alley to like, stab you or anything.”

“Zayn,” Zayn says back. They’re heading around the building, toward the parking lot, and Zayn wonders if he could still get paid if he just got in his car and drove home. “And I wasn’t really worried but thanks.”

“Stay here,” Niall says, and disappears around the building.

Zayn is smoking a cigarette on the side of the building when Niall comes back juggling two subs and two bottles of Jarritos.

“Is turkey good?” Niall asks.

“Yeah, turkey’s cool, thanks,” Zayn says, taking the sandwich from Niall. “Where’d you go get these?”

“There’s a sub place across the street.” Niall is already unwrapping his sandwich. “It’s low-key, but crazy good.”

Zayn sets his own bottle in the ground and starts unwrapping his own sandwich.

“So,” Niall says between mouthfuls of turkey sub, “you shouldn’t be here.”

Zayn’s heart jumps to his throat. “What?” he asks.

“Not like—” Niall waves his hand around in a sort of ‘chill it’s not what you think’ gesture. “I mean like…you don’t strike me as the type of guy who drinks shitty beer at a sports bar.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “I’m an actor, I’ll strike you as whoever you pay me to be.”

“I guess but,” Niall pauses to take a drink from his soda. “You look like you’d be more suited for a modern re-telling of _The Crucible_ than this shitty gig.”

Zayn swallows and looks down at his sub. It’s true that he could have stayed in New York, maybe hustled for a while but scrounged up a part in an off-off-Broadway play about the Bolshevicks or something, but he _chose_ to go to L.A. This is what he picked over anonymity in New York--anonymity in Los Angeles.

Finally, he looks up at Niall, who’s stopped chewing long enough to give Zayn an appraising look. “Whatever pays the bills, bro.”

Niall lets out a small laugh. “Now _that_ I can relate to.”

“Oh, so your lifelong dream _wasn’t_ to shoot corny beer commercials?”

At that, Niall lets out a full on cackle, nearly dropping his food in the process. “Believe it or not, I did major in cinematography in college.”

“You know what? I _can’t_ believe it,” Zayn teases.

Niall fakes a look of hurt that Zayn can’t help but giggle (giggle!) at. “Well, seeing as you don’t believe me, you’ll just have to come over to my place and watch my final project with me.”

And, yep, this is _definitely_ flirting. Okay, well now that Zayn knows how to play this…

“Yeah,” Zayn looks at the ground, then up to Niall through his lashes. “I guess I’ll just have to come over.”

He bites his lip.

This time Niall does drop his food.

The rest of the shoot goes by surprisingly quickly, if only because of the fact that whenever the director calls cut, Zayn catches Niall’s eye and they break into dumb giggles. It’s silly, and it’s endlessly distracting, but it takes off a lot of the weight from his day off his shoulders.

By the end of the day, he’s equal parts exhausted and giddy. He feels butterflies in his stomach the entire time he’s changing into his own clothes and cleaning off the makeup from his face.

Zayn is making his way through the sound stage toward the exit when someone shuffles to catch up to him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Niall asks, bumping Zayn’s shoulder with his own a little. “Running away from me?”

“Yes, you’re very scary,” Zayn says, dry as anything. He waits until Niall stops laughing to continue. “I have work in an hour. Trying to beat the traffic, I guess.”

Niall holds the door open for Zayn, and they walk into the sunshine together.

“Well shit,” Niall says. “I was just gonna ask if you wanted to grab a beer with me. A real beer. Not this fake shit; that’s basically piss in a bottle.”

Zayn bites his lip almost too hard and tries to ignore the familiar clenching in his stomach. “Some other time?” he manages in a relatively steady voice.

“That sounds like you’re about to give me your number.” Niall wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Zayn rolls his eyes for about the billionth time that day. “I _was_ , but now I’m not so sure.”

Niall groans. “I knew you’d make me work for it, man.”

“I’m not exactly easy,” Zayn assures him.

And Zayn doesn’t _do_ this very often. He flirts and he hooks up with people on occasion, but usually under the darkness of a house party or the lights of a sleazy club—never really under sunshine. But this guy is cute and Zayn has butterflies in his stomach for the first time in years probably.

It’s only after Zayn’s finally unlocked his car that he realizes that Niall hasn’t responded.

Zayn’s about to backtrack when he looks back at Niall, leaning against his car, looking at him with this soft expression on his face.

“You’re probably worth the effort, though,” he says.

When Zayn drives away from the lot that day, he’s got Niall’s number programmed on his phone, tentative brunch plans, and a dopey smile on his face.

**

Zayn has nothing to wear.

Realistically, he knows this is obscenely false, but also…he has nothing to wear.

Niall will be here to pick him up to go to his best friend’s performance art installation in about thirty minutes and Zayn can’t decide whether to wear a plaid button-up or a tank top. He hasn’t shown Niall his entire tattoo sleeve yet, and he doesn’t know whether tonight is an appropriate time to do it.

During the last couple of weeks, Niall has become somewhat of a fixture in Zayn’s life. Since the day of that commercial shoot, they’ve spent nearly every day together, either grabbing a beer, a meal, or simply hanging out at Niall’s place since he only lives with one other person in a swanky apartment.

(“Swanky?”

“Your room can fit a king sized mattress. Sorry I’m not used to this kind of luxury, OK?”)

Zayn is pulling on a black short-sleeve button-up on top of a grey t-shirt when his phone starts ringing under the pile of shirts on his bed.

“So are you done fixing your hair or am I gonna have to come up there?” Niall says as soon as Zayn accepts the call.

“Oh my God,” Zayn inspects his hair on his dresser mirror. It’s messily styled up, and he thinks it looks all right. “You are never coming up here, and that’s mostly for your own good.”

“Is your apartment secretly a sex dungeon because I have to say if you think that would freak me out you’re wrong.”

Zayn’s stomach does that clench thing it does every time Niall says something suggestive. “If I had a sex dungeon I would have invited you over the first day we met. My roommates are just assholes, is all.”

“I’m sure they’re not that bad.”

Zayn grabs his keys and his wallet and stuffs them in his pockets. He also remembers to lock his bedroom door before he starts walking to the front door. “Yeah, I live with someone who stores her period blood in a jar.”

Niall still hasn’t responded when Zayn gets into his car.

“You’re not serious are you?” Niall asks, looking a little green. He’s still holding the phone to his ear.

“If I say ‘no’ will you be able to sleep tonight?”

The drive to the space where Harry’s holding his performance piece is long enough that Zayn manages to make Niall forget about Mayflower’s period blood jar.

“I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned any of your roommates before tonight, actually.”

Zayn shrugs. “There’s not much to say, really. The only times I interact with them are during house meetings and someone has to unclog the toilet or whatever. It’s not like with you and Harry.”

During the weeks that Zayn has known Niall, he’s managed to gather that his relationship with his roommate Harry is actually a lot warmer than his own with his roommates. They’re childhood best friends, both born and raised in Palm Springs. They formed a band for a minute in ninth grade only to disband it when their parents kept refusing to drive them to nighttime gigs. When Niall had gotten into Chapman, he’d lost contact with Harry who’d gone to Berkley. After graduation, though, they’d decided to live together in Los Angeles so Niall could pursue his dream and Harry could…do whatever it is he’s doing.

“Well, good thing you won’t have to share a house with those jerks much longer,” Niall adds cheerily. “How was your audition?”

Zayn rolls his eyes at Niall’s enthusiasm. Since the first day, Niall has insisted that Zayn’s Big Break is just around the corner.

Zayn lets out a tired sigh. “It was fine. Or—I don’t know, honestly. I think they thought I was Mexican, because they kept telling me to read the lines ‘the way you talk with your homies.’”

At that, Niall loses it and nearly drives them off the road.

“I’m sorry, man, but…Jesus Christ, huh?”

One of the many things Zayn likes about Niall is that he understands. This town is infuriating and ridiculous and horrible, but he wants to be here just as much as Zayn does. There’s shitty people, horrible producers that take a look at Zayn’s last name and his growing tattoo sleeve and dismiss him completely. But there’s also a community, people like Niall and like Zayn who want to _make_ things.

They get to the venue where Harry’s performing—a sketchy-ass building in a sketchy-ass part of town. There are about three other cars parked along the sidewalk, and there’s a white dude with dreads smoking out of an apple just to the left of the doors.

“So what’s Harry doing again?” Zayn asks as they make their way inside. The room is open; the walls are white and bare for tonight’s performance. There are about ten other people in total, and the only color in the room is a pile of flower petals strewn around the center of the room under a spotlight.

“Not sure,” Niall says. “He told me it was a surprise.”

“Where is he?” Zayn asks, looking around the room in case he’s lurking around somewhere.

Niall shrugs. “Getting ready, probably. Come on, those cheese and crackers have my name on them.”

Thirty minutes later, they’re buzzing off of cheap red wine, their bellies are full of cheese and crackers, and Harry is still nowhere to be seen.

“If Harry doesn’t come out in the next five minutes I’m taking you back to our place and we’re watching a movie or something,” Niall says, a cheeky smile playing on his lips.

“Or something,” Zayn answers, matching Niall’s look.

And this…this is becoming a bit of a problem, actually. The flirting, the suggestive tone they adopt when they’re together, the innuendos—it all seems to be a build-up to something inevitable. Except Zayn isn’t sure when they’ll finally get to whatever they’ve been heading this whole time, and it’s fucking frustrating. Especially considering how cute Niall is.

Just then, however, the lights around them dim, and the spotlights on the flowers seem to intensify.

Suddenly, Harry makes his soundless entry into the spotlight. He’s wearing a fluffy white robe, and he looks as serious as anyone walking on flower petals can be. 

“Oh, there he is,” Niall mumbles to Zayn, since the room has gone silent. Everyone is staring at Harry, waiting for his next move. “Maybe he’ll explain this shit.”

Harry takes off his robe.

“He’s naked,” Zayn notes, because, yeah, Harry is buck-ass naked, standing on a bunch of flowers, completely silent.

“He’s naked,” Niall confirms. Harry stays silent as he sits down cross-legged on top of the flower petals, a look of complete concentration on his face.

For an hour, Harry stays in that stance, unmoving and unspeaking, and for an hour Zayn and Niall stay, eating cheese and drinking wine and waiting for any of this to make any sense.

At the one-hour mark, Harry finally stands up. He keeps the serious expression on his face until he breaks into the goofiest grin and thanks everyone for coming tonight. The remaining four other people clap and congratulate Harry on his piece. Harry makes no move to put his robe on.

“Well that was fucking weird,” Niall says.

“Actually, I think I understood the meaning behind it. It’s quite beautiful.”

“Wait, really?”

“Oh, not at all; that was super weird.”

Finally, Harry spots them. Thankfully, he’s put his robe on, so when he goes in for a hug, Zayn welcomes it warmly.

“You came!”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Harry,” Zayn says and pats Harry’s back, signifying the end of their hug. Harry doesn’t release him.

“So what did you think?” Harry asks them when he’s finally let go.

“It was _so_ good,” Zayn and Niall say in unison. Harry’s smile widens.

Harry spends thirty minutes introducing them to his other artsy friends, who look disinterested and really bored. It doesn’t take long for Niall to suggest that they go grab some pizza.

“Okay, just let me say goodbye!” Harry says before flitting away. Niall leads Zayn out onto the street again, a pinky grazing his wrist and sending a shock up Zayn’s arm.

“That was interesting,” Zayn laughs, digging into his jean pocket for his cigarettes and lighter.

“What do you think the flowers represented?” Niall asks. “You’re the genius.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Probably childhood innocence.” He takes a long drag from his cigarette as he lights up. “Honestly, Niall, I’m not super into performance art—” Zayn stops talking when Niall walks very close to him and steals his cigarette. They don’t break eye contact as Niall takes a long drag.

It would not be inappropriate if a stupid Arctic Monkeys song started playing this moment, but it would probably be followed by a sad trombone sound when Harry bursts out of the building and drags them toward the car with a cheery, “Let’s get some Thai food! I haven’t eaten all day so I wouldn’t look bloated during my performance; I am starving.”

Zayn isn’t sure how much more of this he’ll be able to take before his dick falls off.

*

It’s not like Zayn can’t get laid. He’s not vain, but he’s not stupid enough to not understand that he is more attractive than your average Joe. Case in point, he’s been in this party for all of an hour and he’s already been hit on four times.

“So are you here with anyone?” suitor number four asks as he tries to lean against the kitchen counter in a way he thinks is cool. It’s not, but Zayn was raised right, so all he says is, “Not really? Niall and Harry invited me.”

“Oh yeah, I love those guys,” the guy says. Zayn would feel bad about forgetting his name if he hadn’t heard him make fun of a girl’s short dress earlier. “Niall’s my buddy.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna go try to find him, actually.” It’s not Zayn’s smoothest getaway, but he doesn’t care about the guy’s disappointed face when he shuffles out of the kitchen.

Harry and Niall’s apartment isn’t very big, but it’s clean and nice, which is much more than Zayn can say about his own place. He’s been here countless times before, but this is the first time they’ve invited him to a party here. Zayn is surprised by how many people can fit into this moderately sized living room. He’s not surprised by the amount of friends Niall and Harry seem to have, however; Harry seems to collect acquaintances like stamps, and Niall never found a person he couldn’t befriend. He’d introduced Zayn to a lot of them at some point in the previous weeks, but Zayn is somewhat tired, and he honestly doesn’t care to remember their names.

He’s looking around the room for Niall when he spots Harry on the floor in a corner of the living room with a couple of his skinny white friends.

“Hey Harry?” Zayn calls out as he approaches them. Harry looks up at the sound of his name being called and a sweet slow smile spreads over his face when he spots Zayn.

“Zayn!” Harry spreads his arms to beckon Zayn to probably sit on his lap. Zayn stays put right where he is above Harry. “Hey guys have you met Zayn?”

“Hi Zayn,” the guy and girl with dirty hair call out in a monotone. The guy is wearing sunglasses despite the darkness that envelops most of the room.

“Hey Harry, have you seen Niall?”

“Um…Not for a while so he’s probably in his room. You know where that is, right?”

“Thanks, man,” Zayn says, and leans in to ruffle Harry’s hair.

“Heyyy...” Harry calls behind him, but Zayn is already heading down the hall toward Niall’s room.

Zayn knocks three times before just walks into Niall’s room. At first he can’t see him through the heavy smoke inside the room, but then he spots Niall on his bed sitting cross-legged in front of a cute girl currently taking a hit from a tiny pink piece.

“Zayn!” Niall’s entire body seems to react to Zayn’s presence, because he almost falls face first onto the floor.

“Whoa there, bro,” Zayn rubs a soothing hand up and down Niall’s back. “You all right?”

Niall looks up at him with glassy eyes. “You’re so pretty,” he sighs dreamily. “Do you want some weed?”

That’s how Zayn finds himself smoking up with Niall and his sound editor friend Jade. They’re already giggly and buzzing, so they let Zayn smoke up while they talk about a dog food commercial Jade is working on. Zayn doesn’t know if it’s the weed or the beer Niall had been downing earlier, but Niall can’t stop tickling and play-wrestling Jade. It makes Zayn feel…weird.

So Zayn is a little drunk and a teeny tiny bit high, but he is allowed to feel sort of bitter over the fact that Jade is getting more action from Niall than he’s had in the month and a half they’ve been sort of flirting. Zayn came to this party hoping drinking copious amounts of fruity cocktails would give him the courage to finally stick his tongue down Niall’s throat. The past weeks have been fun, but they’ve also been sexually frustrating, and seeing Niall playfully throw Jade around is, quite frankly, incredibly annoying.

Eventually, Jade wrestles her way onto Niall’s stomach, and Zayn’s had it. He lets out a heavy sigh and sets the piece down on Niall’s bedside table. He’s lacing up his boots when Niall finally stops giggling and notices Zayn isn’t on the bed anymore.

“Hey where you going?” Niall asks, lifting his head from where it’s on the pillows. “I thought you were gonna spend the night.”

“Yeah, I think I’m just gonna take a cab home,” Zayn says, not bothering to even look at Niall. “Not really feeling up for partying tonight.”

“What? Why?” Zayn can hear some shuffling and suddenly Niall is crawling over to where Zayn is tying his shoes. “What happened?”

“Nothing, I’m just tired,” Zayn mutters, growing more annoyed by the second.

“Why don’t you just crash here? You can take Harry’s bed or whatever.”

“I don’t want to sleep on Harry’s bed,” Zayn snaps and straightens up. “Don’t exactly feel like waking up to him fucking one of his model friends.”

“O…kay?” Niall stands up slowly, clearly unsure of how to approach Zayn at the moment. “Um…did I do something?”

Zayn doesn’t know what to say to that, because Niall hasn’t done anything at all.

“No,” Zayn mumbles, avoiding Niall’s sad eyes. “I’m just tired, I promise.”

“OK, well, take my bed,” Niall says, leaving no room for argument. He nods once at Jade and she seems to understand him when she shuffles quietly out of the room.

“Niall—”

“Please, Zayn.” Niall pulls back the covers on his bed then gestures for Zayn to get in. Zayn does, and, ridiculously enough, Niall tucks the covers around him.

“Thanks,” Zayn says between a yawn. When he'd told Niall he was tired he'd been lying, but he can feel exhaustion pulling him down down down. 

“Don’t mention it.” Niall hesitates before running a hand through Zayn’s hair.

“Don’t sleep with her,” Zayn mumbles against the pillow.

“What?” Niall’s face scrunches up in confusion. “Zayn, what?”

“Don’t sleep with Jade.” Zayn tries to fight against his sleepiness to make himself clear. “Please don’t sleep with her, Niall.”

“I—I wasn’t,” Niall squeaks.

Zayn closes his eyes. “Thanks. Good night, Niall.”

“Good night, Zayn.”

The last thing Zayn registers before falling into unconsciousness is the switch of the light and the faint click of the closing door.

*

Zayn wakes up to someone slapping him softly in the face.

He groans, tries to slap whoever’s hand away from him, but they grab his hand instead.

“The fuck,” Zayn mumbles, and opens his eyes.

His head hurts, but he’d still rather slam his entire body against a brick wall than deal with the way Niall is looking at him.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Niall mumbles, fighting down a bemused smile.

Zayn buries his head under a pillow and groans.

“None of that now, Malik,” Niall tells him and pulls him up to a sitting position. He sits next to Zayn now, and Zayn is so embarrassed he could cry. “We have some talking to do.”

Zayn’s face heats up. “I’m sorry about last night,” he says, looking at a spot next to Niall’s ear, then quickly down at his lap. “I was drunk and tired.”

“No, listen to me right now,” Niall says, placing his hands delicately on Zayn’s face so he’s looking into his eyes. “I think we haven’t been talking to each other. And that’s kind of a problem.”

Zayn’s heart drops to the bottom of his stomach.

“Because I like you,” Niall continues, running his thumb down Zayn’s cheekbone. Zayn can’t breathe. “I’m usually pretty good at flirting and stuff, I’m just not very good at the more serious part of it.”

“Serious?”

Niall turns beet red. “I—I’m—Only if, like—Shit I don’t even know if you even wanted—”

“Niall?”

“Yeah?”

Zayn kisses him. It’s chaste as first, but as Zayn pulls back, Niall pulls him back in to deepen their kiss. Niall’s lips are somewhat chapped, and he’s got a little bit of stubble along his cheeks, but Zayn doesn’t care. He doesn’t care because him and Niall are _kissing_ and Niall’s hands feel so good on his back and soon enough Zayn is on top and they’re breathing hard and--

“Awww,” Zayn hears Harry coo above them.

Zayn pulls back abruptly. Niall whines softly at the loss and his eyes cross when he tries to meet Zayn’s gaze. Zayn giggles then looks up at Harry, who is wearing boxers and a towel around his head, his hands on his face and sporting the happiest of grins.

“What’s up, Harry?” Zayn asks, successfully burying a giggle.

“I knew you guys would figure yourselves out,” Harry says. “Do you need some condoms? Lube?”

Niall lets out a long cackle. “Harry, get out,” Zayn laughs.

“Yeah, Harry, get out,” Niall parrots, his laugh fading into a cute giggle.

“You two have fun now,” Harry says and Zayn can swear he can hear his eyebrows go up and down suggestively.

“I wonder what he could be insinuating,” Niall mumbles against Zayn’s lips as soon as the door closes.

“No,” Zayn says and sits up so he’s straddling Niall. “We’re going on a date. And not taco night at Mama Margie’s or whatever. A real proper date. With candles and everything.”

“You can’t expect me to wait that long.” Niall nips at Zayn’s earlobe and gropes his ass. “You’re too fucking cute.”

“You’re a menace,” Zayn groans. “I’m trying to do this the right way.”

“I am too,” Niall says, sitting up so he can rest his forehead against Zayn’s. “But I think we’ve earned this, considering how long we’ve danced around each other.”

“It’s taken us a while, hasn’t it?”

“Not to be whatever.” Niall flips them over so he’s hovering over Zayn. “But you were worth the wait.”

Zayn rolls his eyes but leans in to kiss Niall long and deep. They’ve got some catching up to do.

**

When Zayn was in college, he had a girlfriend. She was blonde and goofy and had dreams of becoming the next Bernadette Peters—had the voice for it too. When Zayn had met her at a party in Brooklyn, he’d been smitten. It’d taken him a month to gather up the nerve to take her out to a movie. She’d had to kiss him first, because he’d been too shy to try. They’d been inseparable for three years.

He’d cheated on her a lot.

Or, well, the word “cheating” implies that Zayn intended to hurt her every time he’d slept with someone that wasn’t her. He didn’t, and when she found out about the first time she hadn’t seemed hurt. She’d shrugged it off, told him to wear a condom next time, and that was that.

The point is: neither of them had placed much importance on fidelity. He loved her a lot, had even considered getting her likeness tattooed on him forever. He thought they were progressive, a new kind of couple that didn’t like to put labels or restrictions on their relationship. Zayn had seen them as revolutionaries when all they’d been was young and experimental and in constant need of drama.

In the end she’d wanted to stay in the city to try to break into the theater scene. He hadn’t.

They’re still friends on Facebook; photos of her going to showbiz-y parties pop up on his newsfeed every once in a while, and they wish each other a happy birthday when that time of year comes. He’s not in love with her anymore.

Zayn doesn’t want to cheat on Niall.

The realization strikes him as he’s driving home from an audition that had gone better than he’d expected. He’s thinking about how if he does get the part, he’d have to be in Georgia for the better part of a month. He thinks about how the weather will be miserable, considering that the shoot will be during July, and how much he would love it if Niall could come with him because Zayn’s gonna miss him a lot and—

They’d be apart for a month.

But Zayn doesn’t dare dwell on this right now. He doesn’t even know if he’s got the part, so it’s no use worrying about something that might not even be an issue.

*

“What’s this one mean?” Niall asks, running a finger along the Arabic along his clavicle.

“It’s my grandpa’s name,” Zayn mumbles against the top of Niall’s scalp. “He died when I was nineteen.”

Niall doesn’t say anything, just leaves a quick dry kiss on the ink. Zayn can’t help but smile.

It’s a Sunday morning, but the heavy blinds that cover the window (after much cajoling from Zayn, who nowadays ends up spending more nights here than not) only let a sliver of sunshine into the room. They’re naked from the night before, and Niall’s feather light touches on his skin make Zayn glad they hadn’t bothered to get dressed.

Being with Niall this way is not much different than before. They mostly do all the same things they used to do, except now they have sex all the time. They’re already a month and a half into their relationship, and Zayn doesn’t know when the honeymoon phase is supposed to end, can’t imagine himself not wanting to constantly hold Niall down and do unspeakable things to him. It hasn’t interfered with either of their jobs yet, but Zayn is starting to worry.

But beside all of that, Niall is a sweet and thoughtful boyfriend. When he’s not working, Niall picks Zayn up from work and they run errands together. Two weeks after Zayn spent his first night at his and Harry’s place, Niall started buying Zayn’s favorite beer. They might be moving fast, considering that Zayn already has a drawer in Niall’s bedroom, but neither of them seem to be bothered by this.

“Did they hurt?” Niall’s running his fingers down the ZAP! on his arm now, not daring to press down on skin, as if Zayn’s hasn’t healed properly yet.

“Yeah.” Niall turns his head to look at him now, and it suddenly becomes hard to talk. “But in a good way.”

At that, Niall’s eyes do that thing that make Zayn’s breath catch and toes tingle. He begins kissing down Zayn’s chest, down toward the heart on his hip at a tortuously slow pace.

“Don’t tease,” Zayn whines but doesn’t really mean it. He loves every single part of it, even the infuriating build-up.

“Impatient,” Niall mumbles against Zayn’s hipbone. “Your worst quality, babe.”

“God, shut up—” Zayn gasps as Niall finally gets his mouth on him. “Fuck.”

Zayn’s lost count of the times they’ve had sex, but it is still just as good as it was the first time. No—it’s gotten so much better. Zayn didn’t know it could be this good.

“Fuck, Niall—” Zayn moans. “Jesus Chri—”

And Harry bursts into the room.

“What the fuck?” Niall and Zayn jump apart and try to cover themselves with the sheets.

“Your agent’s calling,” Harry informs them, holding his phone out toward Zayn, seemingly unbothered by what he’d just walked into.

“And you couldn’t take a fucking message?” Zayn snaps back, snatching the phone from him.

“Well you don’t have to be mean about it,” Harry pouts. “Besides, it seemed urgent.”

Niall pops his head from under the sheets to give Harry a death glare. “You’re the worst friend in the world.”

Harry just shrugs, totally unaffected, and walks out.

“Yeah?” Zayn talks irritably into his phone. Niall settles in at the head of the bed,

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” his agent snaps back just as irritably. It’s not the middle of the night, not an inconvenient time for him at all, so Zayn doesn’t really have a reason to be bitchy at him. Other than the fact that his dick is still half hard and his boyfriend isn’t giving him head anymore.

“No, sor—sorry, what’s up?” Zayn sighs and lies against Niall’s chest.

“I got a call about that audition you went on last week? The one that’s about that group of teenagers who kill a teacher?”

“Oh shit,” Zayn sits up, fully alert now. That audition had gone well, and he’d actually really liked the script. He’d read for the part of a stoner who had taken a part in a murder. It was sort of southern gothic, very creepy, and required more than looking pretty. He’d really wanted it. “And?”

“You got it,” his agent tells him, and his heart jumps up to his throat.

Zayn doesn’t remember thanking him or saying goodbye or hanging up, but when Niall starts saying “Babe” and rubbing up and down his back, he finally comes back to himself.

Zayn looks down at Niall who’s got this worried crinkle in between his eyes. “What’s up?”

“I got it,” Zayn whispers, mostly to himself. Slowly, he feels a smile creep onto his face. “Babe, I got it.”

Niall lets out a startled, happy shout and tackles Zayn onto the floor, their legs getting tangled in the sheets.

*

“I miss you,” Niall says from his side of the screen. He’s lying really close to the camera on his phone so all Zayn can see is his nose and one of his eyes. “I don’t care if I sound lame or whatever, I miss your skinny butt.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “I’ve only been gone two weeks, Ni.”

“Yeah, and you haven’t been sending me nearly enough selfies.” Niall finally pulls his phone back to reveal his face set in an adorable pout. “You can’t go around in the world looking the way you do and not send me one selfie an hour on the hour every day.”

“Shut up,” Zayn mumbles, burying his face against his pillow.

“All jokes aside,” Niall starts, adjusting himself so he’s sitting against the pillows against the head of the bed. “How’s the shoot going?”

It’s going really well, so Zayn tells him. It’s long hours in the sweltering Atlanta heat and a lot of waiting around as scenes are being set up and it is absolutely the most fun Zayn has had working in a really long time. His cast mates, as well, as the crew, are completely amazing and dedicated, and the material is actually fascinating. Zayn couldn’t be happier.

“That’s amazing, babe,” Niall says when Zayn takes a break from talking for what seems like an hour.

“Yeah, it is,” Zayn says between a long yawn.

“Oh shit,” Niall says, a frown forming on his face. “You must be exhausted.”

“I’m not,” Zayn assures him. He is, but they haven’t had Facetime sex yet, so he can force himself to stay up a little while longer.

“Zee.” Niall is not buying it.

“Babe.” Zayn is trying so hard to sell this.

“We’ll talk tomorrow, OK?” Niall says, laughing.

“Yeah, OK,” Zayn agrees, another yawn escaping his mouth. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

**

“Hey babe?” Zayn walks into Niall’s – _their_ , he keeps forgetting – bedroom, nose deep in a script and a question on his tongue. “Have you seen my phone? I have—”

Zayn has been officially living with Niall (and Harry, lest he forget) for a total of a week, and he’s got most of his things unpacked. The only things he hasn’t bothered to find a spot for are his old comic books and he’d left those in boxes to throw away or sell or whatever. Zayn loves his books, but he’s mature enough to be able to get rid of a couple of them.

When Zayn looks up from his reading he doesn’t expect Niall to be sitting cross legged on his – _their_ – bed surrounded by piles of Zayn’s comics.

“What are you doing?” Zayn asks through a growing smile.

“Oh, hi.” Niall looks up from where Zayn can see now that he’s writing something on a notebook. Zayn leans down to peck him on the lips once before Niall goes on. “What’s up?”

“Sorry I didn’t throw these away sooner,” Zayn says, ruffling Niall’s hair. “I kept forgetting.”

“What?” Niall asks, frowning. “Why?”

Zayn shrugs. “I dunno, I’ve been busy with the move and work and I just kept forgetting—”

“No, I mean why were you gonna chuck ‘em?” Niall asks, brows furrowed. Zayn has to run a thumb down the crease between his eyebrows.

Zayn shrugs. “Don’t really need ‘em. Besides, there’s not much space.”

“We can make space,” Niall insists. “I was just making a list, right, of all the different books you have. I separated them into categories—D.C., Marvel, and, well, I just lumped all the other ones in a category for now. Now I’m trying to organize them by volume and stuff. At first I thought I’d separate them into writer but then I realized that it doesn’t really work that way for comics—”

And Niall can’t keep talking because he’s suddenly got a mouthful of Zayn.

“You’re so adorable,” Zayn mumbles against Niall’s lips.

The stacks of comic books are falling off the floor and messily onto the ground. “You’re making a mess,” Niall teases.

“We’ll clean it up later,” Zayn tells him and nips at Niall’s neck.

*

They’re having dinner in the living room as a re-run of Seinfeld plays softly in their TV. Harry’s lies in the couch, head on Zayn’s lap and feet on Niall’s, when he announces that he’s in a band.

Or, well—

“You guys should come to my band’s performance this Saturday,” he says, scrolling idly through his phone.

“Since when are you in a band?” Niall asks, incredulous.

Harry shrugs. “Time is relative, Niall.”

Zayn snorts and runs a hand through Harry’s hair. “Of course we’ll go, babe.”

Niall gives him a dubious sideways glance as if to ask, “We will?”

They do, and a couple days later they’re sitting front row at, strangely enough, a comedy club in downtown L.A. Niall and Zayn are seated at a high table close to the small stage, already amused beyond measure at the situation. They’re nursing some beers and Niall is eating some nachos when the lights go down and the MC introduces the first comedian of the night.

Soon enough, they’re laughing, which is surprising considering all of Harry’s previous artistic endeavors have ended in disaster and awkwardness.

Twenty minutes later, the MC is coming back onstage and announcing the next act, The Melodicats. Niall bursts out laughing when Harry, along with three pretty white girls walk on stage, all holding melodicas.

“Hiii,” Harry says to the audience at large. “We’re the Melodicats and we’re gonna play you some songs.”

Everyone begins laughing as soon as the sound of the melodicas fills the room. After the beginning notes, the tall girl with long curly hair begins singing a raunchy parody of “I Have a Little Dreidel” that makes Niall burst into delighted cackles.

When the last song ends (another inappropriate song about, this time about hand jobs), the Melodicats walk off the stage to raucous applause. A few minutes after Harry and the other girls have disappeared backstage, Zayn receives a text telling him to meet him backstage. Soon enough they’re making their way through the club and to the private area that makes up the green area. As soon as Harry spots them, he sprints toward them to envelop them in a hug.

“Did you guys like it?” Harry asks, smile big and eager.

“No offense, Harry,” Niall says, holding Harry’s cheeks in his hands. “But this is the first time I’ve actually enjoyed one of your performances.”

Harry looks like he’s about to burst into happy tears.

“You’ve been holding out on us, babe,” Zayn tells him, slapping him lightly on the arm. “Did you not want us to meet your band? Are you embarrassed of us?”

“I would never be embarrassed of you guys!” Harry quickly assures them. “I just wanted it to be a surprise. Come on, I’ll introduce you now.”

Rachel, Claire, and Beth are the other three Melodicats, and they’d met Harry at the Grove where they’d been busking. Harry had stayed to watch them for a lot longer than most people, and Claire was about to call the cops on this strange weirdo with greasy hair when he’d asked them where they got their funny instruments. They’d gotten to know each other, and soon enough Harry was helping them write funny little parody songs.

“Where do you keep your melodica?” Niall asks, and Zayn is equally confused. He thinks he would have noticed Harry bringing that funny instrument home.

“In my room?” Harry frowns, confused at the question. He shrugs, and Zayn feels a little guilty at the downward tug of his lips. “You guys have been a bit busy lately.”

“Yeah, we came over once,” Beth interjects. “Your place is really nice, but we got out of there a little quickly when we heard the headboard thumping in the bedroom.”

Zayn can feel his face heat up.

“But it’s nice to properly meet you now,” Claire offers, shrugging sheepishly. “Face to face.”

“Oh Christ,” Niall groans, his face beet read.

The girls giggle between themselves while Harry simply grins ruefully and shrugs.

“Harry says you’re in your second honeymoon phase,” Rachel says. “Then he got in our bathtub and started crying about being left behind.”

“OK!” Harry finally interrupts, clapping once and herding the girls away from Niall and Zayn. “Great first meeting! Please leave.”

They bid their goodbyes and walk away laughing. Harry looks like he wants to join them.

“What the hell.” Niall shoves Harry enough for him to lose his balance a little. “What are you doing?”

“I’m—I’m doing me?” Harry answers tentatively.

Zayn slaps him in the head.

“Hey! No hitting!”

“Harry, if you were feeling left out, you should have just told us,” Niall says, going in for a sideways hug.

“I didn’t want to bug you.” Harry shrugs, but curls around Niall anyway. “You guys look so happy.”

“You make us happy too, idiot,” Zayn laughs, and Niall blows a raspberry into his neck, effectively ending the conversation.

Zayn wraps himself around them, and it feels like a Moment.

*

“You can’t keep hiding our suitcases, Harry,” Niall calls out to the living room. “We still have to leave in five hours!”

After Harry had shared with them that he’d felt left out, Zayn and Niall had made more of an effort to include him. Now, however, they’re leaving on a plane to Toronto for the premiere of Zayn’s movie. Harry had wanted to come with, ostensibly to keep Niall company, but most likely to try to seduce Michael Fassbender, but Zayn had actually put his foot down.

“Why?” Niall and Harry had pouted in the exact same way.

The answer to that was that Zayn wanted to fly to Minneapolis from Toronto so Niall could meet his parents.

Harry hadn’t been very into that plan.

“I don’t what you’re talking about!” Harry yells from somewhere that Zayn can’t see on his place lying on the bed, scrolling through his itinerary for the week. “Are you sure you didn’t just misplace them?”

Niall groans in frustration and throws himself face first on the bed. All Zayn can do is laugh softly.

“What are you laughing at?” Niall asks, looking up at him with his cute grumpy face firmly in place. “You’re the one who has a press junket first thing when we get to Toronto.”

“Yeah, well,” Zayn starts, putting his laptop away and scooting toward Niall to spoon him. “I’ll just sleep on the plane.”

“If Harry doesn’t stop acting like a baby we won’t even be able to get on the plane.”

“Babe?” Zayn curls himself tighter around Niall. “They’re gonna love you.”

Niall freezes. “What do you—”

“My parents and my sisters and my friends and—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Niall laughs, moving on to straddle Zayn’s hips. “You made your point.”

They stay there for a while, quiet, Niall looking down at Zayn and vice versa. Niall’s current nervousness is somewhat vindicating, considering they were in opposite positions only a few months earlier when he’d gone down to Palm Springs with Niall and Harry for the first time. Zayn was so nervous he was pretty much vibrating in his place in the back of Harry’s car the entire way there. When he shook Niall’s dad’s hand the first time his hand was so sweaty he was afraid it would slip right out. By the end of the trip Niall had started complaining that both of his parents liked Zayn better than they liked him. This time, Zayn has no problem comforting Niall.

Zayn leans up on his elbows to peck Niall quickly on the lips. “Thanks for coming with me, though.”

Niall rolls his eyes and off of Zayn. He begins rummaging through his carry-on, which Harry has surprisingly not hidden yet. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, dum dum.”

“I still appreciate it,” Zayn says, shrugging. “Considering I won’t be able to entertain you much during the day.”

“I only need you during the nights, babe,” Niall winks.

“Filthy dog,” Zayn scolds playfully.

“You love me,” Niall throws behind him as he heads out the bedroom, probably in search of their suitcases.

Zayn doesn’t bother arguing.

*

Toronto is not cold during September.

“It’s freezing!” Niall pouts, pulling his cardigan tighter around his body. “Do you want your boyfriend to turn into an icicle before he even meets your parents? Was that your evil plan all along?”

Zayn simply rolls his eyes and keeps walking down the busy street. They’ve just had a private, nice dinner, just the two of them, to celebrate the success of their week here. Being in Toronto for an international freaking festival had been a crazy and amazing whirlwind, but Zayn had felt guilty about leaving Niall to his own devices all week. So, as a reward, and as a sort of preparation for another crazy week to come, Zayn had planned a quiet evening for them to regroup.

The night had turned surprisingly nippy and Niall’s delicately Californian sensibilities are being thoroughly tested. Zayn wanted to take the walk back to their hotel, since it wasn’t so far and he hadn’t gotten to see a lot of it because he’d been busy doing press and watching other screenings. Toronto is beautiful, and the nice cool weather is a good refresher of what it’ll be like in Minnesota.

“Oh darn,” Zayn says, dryness totally undercut by the arm he snakes around Niall’s waist. “You got me.”

“Warm me up, jerk,” Niall mutters into Zayn’s neck as he huddles closer to him. Zayn tries.

“Silly,” Zayn mumbles into Niall’s hair. Niall only hums.

“Are you excited to see your parents tomorrow?” Niall asks. Their plane from Toronto to Minneapolis leaves at 7:00 AM the next morning, a fact that Zayn does not understand. He’s dreading the early morning, but he’s vibrating with excitement over seeing his family. He can’t wait to feel his father’s warmth or to eat his mother’s food or to hear his sisters’ laughs. He feels like the only thing stopping him from floating away is Niall.

“Yeah,” is all Zayn says, and he knows that Niall understands exactly what he means.

“I’m excited too,” Niall mutters, cautious, as if admitting this could jinx their trip somehow. Zayn squeezes his sides and presses a kiss on Niall’s neck.

*

By the time they’re standing in front of Zayn’s childhood home, Niall’s cuticles are nearly bleeding. He’s so, _so_ nervous about meeting Zayn’s family it would be endearing if it didn’t make Zayn’s heart clench in an unhappy way. Niall’s unease will never bring Zayn any joy.

Zayn doesn’t bother telling him it’ll be OK and that his family will love him. He’s done enough talking for now. He rings the doorbell instead.

There’s the sound of socked feet running on carpeted floor and then Safaa is opening the door with as much force as a little girl can muster.

“Zayn!” she cries out happily, immediately going in for a big hug. She’s gotten so tall, and Zayn is suddenly struck with the realization that his littlest sister is a teenager now.

He swings her around a little bit as Niall laughs and drags their stuff into the house.

“I missed you too, donut,” Zayn mumbles into Safaa’s thick head of hair.

“Zayn?” He hears his mother call from somewhere in the kitchen, and then she’s coming into the living room, wiping her hands with a tea towel and grinning from ear to ear as she spots a twitchingly nervous Niall. “Oh, you must be the man’s who’s stolen my boy from me.”

Niall blanches and Zayn can see his ears begin to turn an alarming shade of red.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she coos, walking toward Niall. She envelops him in a hug and assures him that she’s only kidding, and she is, mostly.

Soon, Waliyha comes home from the university, door slamming behind her--an irritating habit she could never get rid of--announcing her arrival. She greets him with a nod before going up to her room for a nap, and Zayn understands that this is her way of keeping a distance while she assesses whether Niall’s good enough for her brother. He’s sure she’ll like him, but for now he’ll let her study him with bright eyes and pursed lips. His dad comes home at around six, cloud of exhaustion blanketing him. Zayn feels deep guilt up until the minute he wraps his arms around him and says, “Glad to have you home, son.” Then he places a heavy hand on Niall’s shoulder and thanks him for taking care of Zayn out in L.A.

Doniya will be here for dinner at eight, so for now, Niall and Zayn retreat upstairs to “settle in.” 

Growing up, Zayn had shared a bedroom with Doniya. After Doniya had moved out, Zayn had taken over their room, and after he’d moved out Waliyha had. She still lives at home, but she’d begrudgingly let them stay in here for the weekend. She’d given them a suspicious look as they’d made their way upstairs, a look that said “Don’t you dare fuck on my bed.”

Zayn was not planning on it.

“Seriously, babe,” Zayn tries to push Niall’s hands off of his fly. “We’re not actually doing it on my twin bed.”

“Come on,” Niall mumbles against Zayn’s neck. “Just a quickie.”

“Niall,” Zayn says, turning a little serious. Niall takes the hint this time and pulls away.

“Okay, okay.” Niall heaves a long sigh. “I guess I can keep my hands to myself for one weekend.”

“You better. I don’t want my dad to kick you out of the house.”

“Wait,” Niall squeaks, and his cheeks begin turning bright pink. “I—He wouldn’t really, right?”

Zayn shrugs.

“You’re such a dick,” Niall groans, and Zayn takes a pillow to the face.

After a little while, they really settle into the pillows, and Zayn is ready to take a nap. He’s drifting off when Niall whispers, “I like your family.”

“They like you too, babe,” Zayn slurs sleepily. “I think my mom wants to keep you here with her for good.”

Niall lets out a low hum and settles himself closer to Zayn’s chest. “I wouldn’t mind that, I guess. She’s a damn good cook.”

“You’re leaving me for my mom?”

“Unless you start cooking, I might. Your mom’s one foxy lady.”

“Please never talk about my mom like that. And please never use the phrase ‘foxy lady’ again. I don’t want to have to break up with you.”

Niall doesn’t respond to that, just rubs Zayn’s tummy in a way that makes him drowsier by the second.

The last thing Zayn hears before he drifts off is Niall’s sleepy sigh followed by, “I’d never risk that.”

*

Zayn’s sisters and his mom are completely in love with Niall.

When Doniya had come into the house, her husband in tow, she’d greeted Niall with some restraint. She was assessing him, just like Waliyha, but by this point of the night Waliyha was already halfway in love with Niall. Doniya had asked some probing questions (“You got any diseases?” “So how many relationships have you been in?” “You got a record?”), but when Niall had taken it all in stride, she’d warmed up to him.

“He’s sweet,” Doniya tells him as they’re washing the dishes. Niall is in the living room with the rest of the family. He’d offered to help clean up, but Trisha had tusked at him and told him that it was Doniya and Zayn’s turn as they hadn’t done the clean-up in months. Zayn had tried to argue that he hadn’t done the clean up because he _didn’t live there anymore_ but Yaser had leveled him a stern but loving look and he’d slumped into the kitchen without saying another word.

“He is.” Zayn smiles down at the plate he’s drying. His sister will tease him forever if she sees how moony he gets over Niall.

Doniya bumps his shoulder with hers. “You don’t have to act cool around me, idiot. Besides, you kind of lose your ability to be cool when you’re around him anyway.”

Zayn scoffs. “I’m always cool.”

“You have never been cool,” Doniya says in a way that leaves no room for argument. “Never in your life, little brother.”

He’s missed her so much.

“How’s married life, anyway?” Zayn asks as Doniya hands him another plate. “You thinking of _Gone Girl_ -ing him any time soon?”

“Not quite yet,” Doniya replies, scrubbing a bit forcefully at a salad bowl. “He hasn’t gotten on my nerves that badly, and besides, the baby would make it a little inconvenient.”

Zayn nearly drops a glass.

“What?” Zayn hisses.

Doniya shushes him, and takes a furtive glance at the doorway leading from the kitchen into the living room. “Chill, idiot.”

“You’re _pregnant_?” Zayn hisses. 

“We just found out yesterday,” she mutters, going back to washing a glass. “You have impeccable timing, by the way.”

“When are you planning on telling them?”

She sighs. “I don’t know. Like, a part of me knows that they have no reason to be upset about it. I’m married, I have a job, I’m happy… But I’m still scared?”

Zayn nods, tries to look like he understands, but…he’s never been pregnant.

“And, I dunno, telling them will make it actually _real_ , you know?”

That, Zayn gets. It’s one of the reasons why he’d held out on introducing Niall to his parents for two years.

“Well, you know how you wanna do this.” Zayn places a damp hand on her shoulder. “And I’m right here.”

She smiles at him, and Zayn’s heart feels too full. “Thanks.”

Later that night, when the family’s all gathered around the coffee table talking while Niall and Safaa play Jenga, Doniya just blurts out “I’m pregnant” during a lull in conversation. Niall is so startled, he topples the tower, which makes Safaa and Waliyha get startled into laughter. Yaser’s eyes go wide as saucers, and Trisha bursts into tears.

The rest of the night is a combination of laughter and tears, but everyone in the room is smiling.

*

The next few days are made up of Zayn driving Niall around his old stomping grounds—his high school, the park, the mall where he had his first date—and eating so much food Niall is in a near permanent food coma. Niall even gets to meet Zayn’s childhood best friends, and they get on so well that Zayn can’t stop smiling for so long his jaw starts to hurt.

“You’re so cute,” Niall says when he catches Zayn smiling as he drives his mom’s old Subaru from Ant’s apartment.

Zayn ignores this and says, “I think you’re enjoying yourself too much here. Might end up taking the plane back to L.A. all by my lonesome.”

“You think your mom would let me have your old room?”

“I think you’d have to fight Waliyha to the death for it.”

Niall contemplates this for a second. “I could take her.”

Zayn doubts it, but he simply places one of his hands on Niall’s knee.

*

The day they’re due back in L.A. is a lot harder than Zayn had anticipated.

“I love you, sunshine,” Trisha says as she’s giving Zayn one last hug goodbye. She smells so much like flowers and love and home and he doesn’t ever want to let go. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you too,” Zayn tells her, and he doesn’t want to cry, but he can feel his eyes prickle a little.

His father follows pretty similarly, and his strong yet tender hugs always make Zayn feel like nothing could ever hurt him. Yaser lets him go with a request that he call home more, and Zayn nods and promises, because he really should and he really will make an effort this time.

While his sisters bury him in hugs and kisses, Zayn watches as Yaser hugs Niall tightly and Trisha kisses him on the cheek and hands him a Tupperware container full of food. Zayn can’t hear what they’re talking about, but the sight makes his heart clench.

When they’re finally in the taxi, on their way to the airport and Zayn’s family becomes a blur in the distance, Niall’s hand finds Zayn’s and he twines them together.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” Niall says, soft sweet smile aimed at Zayn. “Your family is incredible. Like you.”

Zayn just smiles, afraid that his voice will come out shaky, and squeezes his hand.

“I love you,” Niall says.

Zayn loves him too.

**

Zayn is happy, mostly.

His family is healthy and growing, he lives with people he actually likes, and he’s more in love with his boyfriend than he ever could have imagined.

Except.

It’s been three months since Zayn’s last job wrapped.

As far as acting gigs were concerned, it hadn’t been the most stimulating; it was a medium-budget action movie about a group of misfit assholes that stole cars or whatever. Zayn had been cast as one of the main character’s best friends, and he was grateful to have some lines and a steady income, but it hadn’t exactly been fun. Now, though, lying on their worn couch and re-reading an old X-Factor comic, he misses the long hours and the insipid lines.

Zayn had thought, somewhat naively, that his first serious acting job would lead to more and more of them. It’s been almost two years since he filmed that and six months since it had premiered, and he’s now working at an American Apparel and going to auditions that never turn into anything.

“Honey,” Zayn hears Niall call out as he bangs into the apartment. “I’m hooome!”

If Zayn is in a professional slump, Niall is on a roll. He’s snagged a job shooting for a Very Serious HBO production that shoots in east L.A. He’s gone most days, which leaves Zayn stewing in his old unfulfilled professional dreams in their apartment.

“I come bearing gifts!” Niall says as he makes his way to the couch. He places a paper bag full of Chinese takeout on the coffee table and proceeds to belly flop on top of Zayn.

“Hi,” he mumbles into the side of Zayn’s face. He wraps his arms around Zayn’s waist and gives him a long hug. “Missed you.”

Zayn lets out an exasperated “babe” but hugs him back anyway. They don’t get to see much of each other these days, what with Niall working nearly twelve hours a day and Zayn…not. Having him close like this while they’re both awake is a bit rare, and Zayn is thankful for it.

“How was work?” Zayn asks, rearranging his body so that Niall can lie down next to him instead of on top.

“Tricky,” Niall replies, running a hand through his own hair. “Had to chase the sun this morning to get a shot, but it came out beautiful, Z. I can’t wait for you to see it.”

“Me neither,” Zayn tells him, because he honestly can’t wait. This project has been pretty top-secret; Zayn doesn't even know what actors Niall is shooting. Plus, Niall’s work is always so beautiful. “I’m proud of you, babe.”

Niall flushes and sits up, essentially shrugging off Zayn’s compliment. He only really gets bashful about his work when it comes to Zayn, and Zayn can’t help but be a little bit pleased about that.

“You gotten any calls today?” Niall asks, taking out the food containers from the bag.

Zayn lets out a heavy, tired sigh. “Nope.” He hopes Niall will drop the topic and they can enjoy a night together without the cloud of professional disillusionment hanging over his head.

“You called Craig lately?” Niall asks instead. Of course he can’t let it go. He’s so convinced that Zayn is going to be a movie star he makes Zayn believe it too sometimes.

“I called him two days ago,” Zayn says, grabbing the container Niall hands him and sitting back on the couch. “Said I had an audition next week. Hasn’t gotten any calls about any of the auditions I’ve gone to this past month.”

Niall lets out a hum, mouth full of noodles. He’s quiet for a while, which is fine when he’s eating most of the time, but he’s taking a little longer to chew one mouthful than usual.

“Have you ever thought of taking improv classes?” Niall asks, suddenly.

Zayn doesn’t want to snap at him, so instead he asks, “What do you mean?”

“Like,” Niall scoots closer to Zayn so he’s snuggled next to him. “You’re the most talented person I know, Z, but acting is a muscle, just like anything else. If you don’t use it you lose it.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Zayn mumbles defensively into his box of food. “I don’t even like, know what improv is anyway.”

“It’s like,” Niall tries to find the words. “Like, you make scenes without any prior—”

“Niall, I went to Julliard. I know what improv is, I was just--” Zayn snaps, and pretty much dumps his food on the coffee table. “I’m not a moron.”

“I didn’t say you were, Z,” Niall says, growing a little weary. “I was just—”

“Because, like, I went to school for a reason, right,” Zayn continues, standing roughly up from the couch. “I went to school to get _good_ at acting. And I _am_ good. No, I’m really fucking good at it, OK? I’m better than most of those assholes that get the callbacks that I should be getting. Fuck, I’m better than most of those skinny white boys working with fucking Wes Anderson or whatever, Jesus fucking _Christ_!”

Zayn is not prone to outbursts of emotion, but he’s just so _angry_ about his situation. He hates that he can’t do something that he loves and is good at because of an institution that hates nearly everything that he is.

“I hate this,” Zayn finally mumbles to himself, and this finally springs Niall into action, because he immediately stands up and walks over to Zayn to envelop him in a hug.

“I love you,” Niall mumbles into Zayn’s ear. “I love you, and I believe in you. Always have, always will. And when you make it—and trust me, Zayn, you _will_ —I’ll be right there, OK?”

“But—”

Niall interrupts him by holding Zayn’s face between his hands. “I _believe_ in you, and I know that might not be enough, especially not now, but whenever you need me, I’ll be here. I promise you that I’ll be here for you, whatever happens.”

There is a part of Zayn that wants to scoff and make this into a joke, but the bigger part of him takes over and lets Niall kiss him.

“I’m sorry that I upset you,” Niall mumbles against his lips. “It’s just that I was driving past the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater and thought—I thought you could try it out, is all.”

Niall steps back with one last peck to Zayn’s lips. “I don’t know about you, but this outpouring of emotions has made me really hungry.” With one more kiss to his cheek, Niall goes back to the couch and he picks his container back up. “Come on before I eat your dumplings.”

Zayn stands there for a moment, simply looking on as Niall begins stuffing noodles into his mouth. He makes a choice, then.

“Hey, babe?” Zayn starts, making his way toward the couch.

“Yeah?” Niall says between mouthfuls of food.

“Do they have a website or something?” Zayn finally asks.

Immediately, Niall springs up from his place in his corner of the couch and tackles Zayn into a hug.

“You’re gonna love it,” Niall mumbles against Zayn’s face, peppering kisses along his cheeks. “Your first class is this Tuesday.”

Zayn pulls back from Niall’s grasp. “What if I’d said no?”

“You didn’t say no,” Niall tells him.

“But what if I had?”

Niall gives him one last peck on the nose. “Guess we’ll never know.”

*

“How was class today?” Niall asks him as soon as Zayn gets into the car.

“It was fun,” Zayn says, in his usual nonchalant way that he knows bothers Niall.

“Zayn…” Niall starts, warningly.

Improv had turned out to be an amazing idea. The exercises that his teacher makes him, along with the rest of the class, do stimulate Zayn’s creative muscles in a completely new way. It turns out he’s quite good, too, and he’s excited about the prospect of going onto Level 2. Niall wants to know everything that happens in his classes, naturally, but Zayn resists. These classes are something that are his, and as much as he enjoys involving Niall in nearly all parts of his life, he feels a need to keep this for himself.

“It was really good,” Zayn laughs, placing a hand on Niall’s thigh to soothe him. “Our teacher invited us to this podcast taping he’s doing tomorrow night? You wanna go?”

“Yes!” Niall yells and almost drives them off the road in his excitement. Zayn is stubbornly private about his improv classes, as he is with most things, so this is a big deal. “Where is it? At what time? Do I have to buy tickets online?”

“We just have to get in line at the theater about an hour before the show,” Zayn says, staving off a laugh at Niall’s excitement. “Or maybe not, since I know one of the people on there.”

“Zayn, what the hell!”

“Babe, focus on the road.”

“Don’t ‘babe’ me; you have to give me details, Z.”

“I know, that’s why I didn’t.”

“You’re a bad boyfriend.”

“I’m a good boyfriend.”

“You’re the worst!”

*

The next day they’re drinking a beer and talking to Zayn’s improv coach in the green room of the theater, and Niall is singing a different tune, of course. He’s just so _excited_ to be involved in this part of Zayn’s life that it makes Zayn want to kiss him right there.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Niall mumbles when his coach Chris goes to talk to someone else.

“Like what?” Zayn asks innocently.

Niall rolls his eyes. “You’re such a dick.”

Niall isn’t in the closet. Neither is Zayn, despite the obvious reasons why he should be. In any case, Niall isn’t fond of public displays of affection as a general rule. Zayn had asked him about this once, and Niall had just muttered something about “keeping myself to myself” so Zayn had dropped it. Zayn understands now, that this isn’t about him. Niall is one of those people who choose carefully what others get to know about him. If most of their friends think Niall is laid back and goofy it’s because Niall wanted it that way. Zayn is jealous of that amount of control.

Zayn can’t help it, though, when he kisses Niall’s cheek. He can get away with these things sometimes.

Niall turns fire engine red immediately.

Soon enough, they’re being herded toward their seats, and the show starts. It’s some sort of panel where the a specific meme is dissected and discussed among the hosts and the guests. When Chris had told Zayn about it, he’d thought he wouldn’t be into it, but the hosts are surprisingly funny. One of them keeps teasing the other one. Chris and the other guest are both improvisers, so they go along with the hosts’ increasingly outlandish bits. It’s pretty funny, and Niall is laughing hysterically next to him.

They wrap up after an hour, and Niall suggests that they stay a while so they can properly meet the hosts.

“Ask your teacher to introduce us!” Niall insists, bouncing on the tips of his toes just as they’re reaching the crowd that’s gathered in the green room.

“You’re such a geek,” Zayn teases good-naturedly but leads Niall toward Chris with a hand on his lower back.

“Hey, Zayn!” Chris greets him when they reach him. He turns to the hosts again, “Hey guys, this is one of my students. He’s really cool.”

“Hey man,” the more serious one with big brown eyes and a sweet smile goes in for a handshake. “I'm Liam.”

“Yeah, we know,” Niall blurts out.

“I’m Zayn,” Zayn says, shaking his hand. “This is Niall, my geek boyfriend.”

“It’s always nice to meet fans,” the other host, Louis, interjects. “I’m Louis.”

“Don’t be a dick, dude,” Liam scolds with a jab at Louis’s side.

“You’re such a wet blanket; I was just teasing oh my God.”

“We just met them, Louis.”

“So? We’re comedians; it’s what we do.”

“Comedians can be nice too.”

“No they can’t.”

“Um,” Niall interrupts Liam before he can form a comeback. “Do you guys record here a lot?”

“Usually we record in a studio,” Liam answers at the same time Louis mutters “I win” to no one. “But we do do live shows occasionally.”

“Do do,” Louis laughs.

“Louis, please,” Liam groans.

Louis ignores Liam and looks at Zayn and asks, “Hey, have we met?”

“No,” Zayn answers honestly. “But you may have seen me as a corpse on NCIS.”

“Yeah, that’s probably it,” Louis nods his head. “You’re an actor then?”

“Trying to be,” Zayn shrugs. “There seems to be a lot of those here.”

“You should be on our podcast!” Liam says.

“You should!” Niall adds, just as excited.

“I don’t know if I’d have anything to add to your…stimulating conversations.”

“Oh, I like him already,” Louis says, a smirk forming on his face. “You should be on, man.”

“I—” He looks at Niall and Liam’s hopeful faces and sighs. “I’ll think about it.”

They exchange numbers, and on the way to the parking lot, Niall twines his hands with Zayn’s. “I had fun tonight,” he says.

Zayn mumbles an assent and squeezes Niall’s hand.

Maybe they’ll have more nights like this.

**

It’s a few months later, and they’re at a weekly comedy showcase at the basement of some comic book shop. They’ve brought Harry along this time, and he’s already charmed half of the people in the green room. To be fair, Harry had met some of them through various performances of his now defunct musical comedy group.

“And I’m friendly,” Harry ends his long explanation to Zayn about how he’s got more friends in this circle than he does. “Plus, you’re intimidatingly beautiful.”

Zayn scoffs. “That’s ridiculous.”

Both Niall and Harry roll their eyes just as a petite brunette wearing a cocktail dress and holding a martini glass comes over. “You’re not ugly enough to be a comedian,” she informs him.

“I’m not a comedian,” he tells her, then pauses. “Wait, was that a compliment?”

She doesn’t stay long enough to give him an answer.

“That was weird, right?” Zayn asks no one in particular.

“Oh, Zayn,” Harry says, throwing an arm around his shoulder and making things that much weirder. “You beautiful low-flying woodpecker.”

And that doesn’t make any sense, so Zayn just shrugs Harry’s arm off him and pulls Niall into a cuddle. “Where are Liam and Louis?”

“Liam is probably out in the back smoking,” Niall says, rubbing a hand down Zayn’s back. “Louis too, probably, but not the same kind of smoking.”

Zayn perks up at this, and then turns to Niall as if to ask for permission.

“Yeah, yeah,” Niall laughs, pushing Zayn toward the direction of the exit. “But you come back to me, you hear?”

After a quick kiss on the cheek, Zayn heads toward the exit.

Louis has a small green piece held against his lips when Zayn finds him. He’s with a group of some people, most laughing dumbly, and all probably super high.

“Hey, man,” Zayn says as he slaps him lightly in the butt. “What’s up?”

Louis holds the smoke in and nods once in acknowledgement then holds the piece and the lighter out for Zayn.

Zayn nods once, then holds the piece against his own lips. Around him, these strangers are having a deep conversation about turtlenecks.

“I know I’m interrupting a very stimulating conversation,” Louis interrupts. “But this is my beautiful friend Zayn.” They respond with scattered greetings. “Zayn, these are my ugly comedian friends.”

“Louis—” Zayn coughs, embarrassed. “That’s so--”

“He’s right,” a very tall, bearded and bespectacled white guy in a plaid shirt says. “Collectively we’re not even as good looking as one of your shits.”

“That’s not—” Zayn stops himself before he can make some comedy world faux pas. “Thanks?”

The guy just shrugs. “No problem.”

“Well of course he’s prettier than us,” Louis says, slinging an arm around Zayn’s shoulders and taking the piece back. “He’s an actor.”

“Thanks, man,” Zayn grumbles, trying to take the pipe back.

Louis holds it away from his reach and continues, “So if any of you dickweeds ever need someone for your dumbass Funny or Die clips, he’s your guy.”

“I thought you weren’t bitter,” a white guy with a light bit of stubble and glasses says as he makes his way into the circle with a girl with a sharp features and curly hair hanging off his arm. “Now pass the weed, thank you.”

The girl lets go of his arm and makes grabby hands at Louis. “Gimme gimme gimmeeeeeee…”

“I thought the weed here was ‘too strong,’” Louis says, but hands the piece to her anyway.

“That’s not my bit,” she says before putting it against her lips.

“Sorry,” Louis says, not sorry at all. “Anyway, Gabe, Jenny, this is Zayn. Zayn these are some strangers that I haven’t talked to ever since they went Hollywood.”

“Jealousy isn’t your color,” Gabe, apparently, says. “Also a million pilots get shot every year so don’t be a bitch for no reason.”

By this point the rest of the group has moved inside, and it’s only them four out in the alley. Zayn is pleasantly buzzing, and he relaxes against the brick of the building.

“So when are you shooting it anyway?” Louis asks.

“Soon?” Gabe says, and takes the pipe from Jenny. “We haven’t even cast it yet.”

“Well, you know I’m always available,” Louis says.

“As if, you busy bee,” Jenny giggles. “But if you have any suggestions, we’re pretty open. Jake just dropped out on us, so we’re kind of holding our dicks right now.”

“Jake’s busy?”

“Jake’s busy.”

“Well,” Louis says, leaning back against Zayn. “The only people I know are comedians, and they’re all fucking annoying. Plus this guy, but he might be too beautiful. Might hurt your egos.”

“He is startlingly handsome,” Gabe says contemplatively, then finally turns to address Zayn. “You’re very handsome.”

Zayn sighs. “Thanks.”

“I mean,” Jenny starts. “If you wanted…You know, you should just read for it, actually.”

“What?” Zayn asks, suddenly alert. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

“Jenny and Gabe sold a pilot, they’re gonna star in it or whatever. They need other cast members, though, I guess.”

“To our dismay,” Gabe adds. “But yeah I mean, if you want. No commitment or anything. We’d just see how you read or whatever.”

“I—OK,” Zayn nods once, heart beating a little faster. “That’s cool.”

“This is the part where you exchange information, Zayn.”

“Shut up, Louis,” they all say.

Louis shuts up.

*

After that night, Zayn had not expected Jenny or Gabe to get in contact with him, and he certainly hadn’t expected an e-mail from his agent confirming that he had an audition the following week.

“How did you guys even get my agent’s information?” Zayn asks over the phone a few days later. He’s in the kitchen, staying out of Niall and Harry’s way as they cook dinner, as per usual. “I don’t think I was high enough to forget about giving it to you.”

“Your boyfriend,” Gabe answers. “He had like, a business card with all your information too; it was weird.”

“But like, in a cute way,” Jenny adds. “My husband carries all my business cards because I keep losing them all the time.”

“When did you even meet--” Zayn starts.

“In the bathroom,” Gabe tells him like it’s an obvious thing. “Louis introduced us while we were all peeing.”

“Wait--”

“Well, I was taking a dump,” Jenny clarifies. 

“Right, thanks.” Zayn shoots a withering look to the back of Niall’s head. “I’ll talk to him about it. Anyway, thanks.”

“Oh my god are you kidding me you’re the most beautiful friend we’ve ever made, right Jen?”

“Oh my god like for sure like thank you so much for even talking to us because--”

It’s at this point where Zayn knows they’re starting a riff that could last for longer than he can stand, so he bids them goodbye and hangs up the phone.

“What are you gonna talk to me about?” Niall asks, turning away from the food.

“You giving my personal information to strangers,” Zayn says in a tone that hope comes off as chiding but is probably really fond.

Niall snorts as he wipes his hands with a tea towel. “Well, they’re not exactly strangers, are they?”

And they’re not strangers, not really. They text pretty constantly, but their conversations mostly consist of videos of dogs and poop emojis. Niall is delighted by these new relationships, and has tried to goad Zayn into inviting them to their house for dinner or something.

“I don’t want to look desperate,” Zayn slurs, much later with his head on Niall’s lap. He’s sure that if Niall keeps running his hands through his hair he’ll fall asleep right here and wake up with a crick in his neck.

“You’re being silly,” Niall teases. “You’re not even gonna read for them personally anyway, right? You’re gonna read for some producers.”

“Yeah but—”

“OK, compromise,” Niall says, holding Zayn’s cheeks to hold him in place. He looks Zayn straight in the eyes very seriously for one second before he grins. “We get drinks with them the night of the reading. Casual. Just the way you like, Cool Guy.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” Zayn huffs, but tangles his fingers with Niall’s in a quiet gesture of gratitude.

Niall brings their tangled hands to his lips and kisses Zayn’s knuckles. “Never, babe.”

*

“Stop pacing,” Zayn calls out from his place at the kitchen table. He’s going through his e-mail, responding to his mom and dad and sisters, but he can sense Niall’s nervousness even from his place in their room.

“I’m not!” Niall yells back, but he’s never been a very good liar, and Zayn can tell even by just hearing his voice.

Zayn lets out a long, tired sigh and makes up his mind. He’s left Niall alone to fret over this phone call for long enough, so he closes his laptop and makes his way toward their room. Usually Harry takes it upon himself to distract Niall if he’s ever nervous—Niall doesn’t like for Zayn to see him nervous for whatever reason—but Harry’s out on a retreat in New Mexico that Zayn really hopes he comes back from eventually.

“Babe?” Zayn calls out tentatively. “Are you all right?” When he turns the corner and opens the door to their room Niall is indeed pacing. He’s pacing in his underwear.

“Babe?” Zayn says again, and Niall turns to face him. He looks like a deer caught in the headlights. “Are you OK, babe?”

“What?” Niall asks, eyes glassy and cheeks ruddy. “Yeah, just hot. Did the A/C break or something? It’s really hot in here.”

“I don’t think so,” Zayn says, pulling his own cardigan closer. “Do you want some water?”

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna take a bath,” Niall mumbles, and starts walking toward the bathroom, but Zayn grabs his hand to stop him.

“Niall,” Zayn says softly, afraid of startling him. “They’re gonna call.”

Earlier this week, Niall had met with some people about possibly serving as the official director of photography for their movie. It was a very small independent picture, but Niall had let Zayn read the script and he thought it was a beautiful story. This would be Niall’s first time functioning as an actual DP, and although Zayn was fairly confident he would get the job, Niall seemed on edge about it anyway.

“Um yeah I know I just—” Niall gulps nervously. “I just need to take a bath.”

“Yeah well,” Zayn mumbles, pulling Niall closer to him. “What if I join you?”

Twenty minutes later, when Niall’s head is on Zayn’s chest in their tiny tub, Niall’s heart rate seems to have gone back to normal.

Zayn is humming softly against the back of Niall’s head when Niall finally speaks up. “I know everything’s been sort of set up, and that it’s only about formalities at this point, but I’m still freaking out. This could be it, you know? This could be my shot.” He lets out a shaky breath. “But also… If I get it and I fuck up then what do I do? There are a million other suckers just waiting to have my job.”

Zayn doesn’t say a word, just runs his hands down Niall’s arms in a way that he hopes conveys something along the lines of _I love you, you’re one in a million, and you’re gonna make this movie beautiful, just like you make all the other things in your life beautiful_.

They lie there in silence for a few minutes until Niall’s phone starts ringing loudly from the bedroom. Niall sits up, gives Zayn one panicked look before pretty much jumping out of the tub. He doesn’t bother grabbing a towel before booking it to their bedroom. Zayn sits there, alone in the cooling water for a few minutes before he hears footsteps. When he looks up, Niall is still naked, but he’s got a completely shocked expression on his face.

“I got it,” he whispers, stunned.

Zayn can’t help but laugh as Niall jumps back into the tub, splashing water everywhere. He’ll worry about the mess later.

**

“Hey, Zayn?” Harry’s voice drifts from inside his dressing room. “I need your advice.”

Zayn opens a door for another customer, then replies, “I’m working, H.”

“Yeah, but,” Harry says, then opens the door clad in those stupidly expensive “vegan leather” booty shorts they sell. “Can you see my cock through these?”

Zayn makes sure that there are no other customers waiting for a dressing room before briskly walking toward Harry and slapping his hand over his mouth. “I’m _working_ , idiot.”

Harry only raises his eyebrows as if to ask _‘Well?’_

Zayn sighs. “No, I can’t.”

“Damn,” Harry sighs. “Oh well.”

“Please tell me you’re at least wearing underwear,” Zayn begs.

“Do you want me to lie to you?” Harry asks.

Zayn simply lets out a frustrated huff and walks back toward the racks. He’s supposed to be working.

A few minutes later, as he’s rearranging some sweaters, Harry walks up to him and hooks his chin over his shoulder. “I miss Niall.”

Zayn lets out a small laugh. “Niall hasn’t gone anywhere, Harry.”

“But he’s gone all the time,” Harry whines. “He’s busy or whatever and I don’t get to see him that much.”

Niall’s been working in a movie that shoots around L.A. for the past couple of weeks, and for as long as he’s been busy Harry’s been insufferable. Zayn tries to entertain him as much as he can, but when he’s not at work or at UCB, he’s exhausted on the couch, reading and hearing Harry’s sad dejected sighs around the apartment.

“Tell you what,” Zayn says, finally turning around to face Harry’s pouting face. “You leave and let me do my job that I can get fired from, and I’ll drive us to that weird vegan communal restaurant with the vaguely racist name you like so much.”

“The Peaz in the Hood?! I’ve been craving their raw quinoa sandwiches for weeks!”

Zayn lets himself be hugged by Harry and doesn’t ask whether that’s actually a thing.

The concept of the restaurant is that the patrons are supposed to sit with strangers and share their food among themselves. Zayn isn’t too fond of the idea, but Harry has been obsessed with it for months, and his kicked puppy face is pretty much irresistible. As Zayn picks at his kale and lemon salad—the cheapest thing on the menu—he can’t help but hate Harry a little. Harry, who has struck up a conversation with the couple sitting next to him, seems to have no care in the world.

“Hey, can you pass me the salt?” comes a sharp female voice from his left. Zayn spares her a passing glance—she’s a petite blonde wearing a flower crown—and passes her the salt with a nod.

“I’m Amy,” she says after thanking him. “What’s your name?”

“Um,” Zayn swallows a bite of kale. “I’m Zayn.”

“Oh my God,” she says, seemingly in awe. “That’s such a beautiful name. What does it mean?”

“I—” Zayn doesn’t know. “I don’t know.”

“Well it’s really pretty,” Amy continues. “Are you from around here? I only ask because nobody that lives here is from here.”

Zayn will give her the benefit of the doubt. “I’m from Minneapolis. Moved here a couple years ago. Um…” He clears his throat in order to force the question out of his mouth. “Are you from here?”

“Born and raised.”

“So you’re an exception.”

She laughs, bright and pretty. “I guess I am.”

Amy is nice, and their conversation flows more easily than Zayn could have anticipated. At one point Zayn gets worried that he may be neglecting Harry, but when he turns to try to add Harry into their conversation, he finds him holding a baby in his arms as he talks to a lesbian couple.

So Zayn isn’t having a terrible time. In fact, he doesn’t notice when it gets late and the restaurant starts to empty out.

“Hey, Zayn?” comes Harry’s voice from the other side of the table. “I think we’re being kicked out.”

Zayn looks up at the waiters gathered close by and feels guilty. He remembers being in their shoes, waiting for the last inconsiderate patrons to finally leave so they can lock up and go home.

After they pay their bill, they find themselves lingering in front of the restaurant. Harry is talking animatedly with Amy’s friends while Zayn and Amy have drifted away from them.

“So since we don’t have much time left,” Amy says after a lull. “I’m gonna cut to the chase. Give me your phone.”

Zayn frowns in confusion. “What?”

Amy rolls her eyes. “So I can give you my number and you can call me. Or text me. You seem like a texter.”

“I—” And Zayn thinks. Or, well, he doesn’t, for once, and pulls out his phone. “Yeah.”

Niall is always saying that Zayn needs new friends, that he should be open to the possibility. Niall would like Amy.

“Don’t forget about me,” Amy says with a wink and a laugh then walks toward her friends.

When they get back home, Niall’s sneakers are in the cubby by the door, and Zayn smiles. In their bedroom, Niall is already dead to the world, curled up in a ball on his side of the bed. Zayn takes off his jeans and slides in next to him. Soon enough Niall will be curled around him.

Niall would like Amy, but he doesn’t have to know about her yet.

*

Things aren’t bad.

In fact, ever since Zayn had shot that pilot with Jenny and Gabe, he’s been steadily working in different projects for various members of the UCB community. A comedy short here, a podcast there, and even a music video for a band Harry had sworn was the next big thing. Zayn even quit his “day job” at Niall’s insistence three weeks ago and hasn’t felt any horrible repercussions.

Niall is busy all the time, it seems, and even Harry is busy working at an art gallery.

“Since when do you know anything about art?” Niall asks after he’s finished laughing at Harry’s sudden change in career.

Harry frowns. “You went to all my performance art pieces.”

“Yeah but I’m talking about _real art_ , dude,” Niall explains. He gets a sad pout in response. 

Things aren’t bad, so Zayn is very confused about why he feels like he’s suffocating.

“Maybe you’re not ready for things to be good,” Amy says to him over lunch at her place after he’s finished talking about all his trepidations. “You and your friends are growing up and it’s scary, but you’re also so used to things being hard that when things go well you just shut down.”

Zayn isn’t sure why he isn’t talking to Niall about all of this. Usually, Niall is the first person he would talk to about his reservations regarding any situation. This time, though, with Niall looking so happy and excited about everything, Zayn can’t bring himself to let him know how crazy he’s feeling over nothing. Amy’s also a child psychologist, so maybe he feels she’s more qualified to talk to about this stuff than he is.

“Maybe,” Zayn mutters against his cup of coffee.

Amy sighs and places her chin on her hand. “Only you can make a girl swoon with just one word.”

Amy hasn’t stopped flirting with Zayn despite his subtle hinting. Well, to be completely fair to her, he’s been very subtle. Or, rather, he hasn’t hinted at all. He hasn’t been flirting back overtly, but he hasn’t shown any blatant distaste, which is…weird.

Another really weird thing that Zayn hasn’t done is tell Amy about Niall. Or Niall about Amy. He feels horribly guilty every time he lies to Niall about going out to lunch with Gabe when he’s really out to see Amy. He also flinches every time Amy refers to Niall as his “roommate” despite not doing anything to correct her. He doesn’t mean to be maliciously deceitful, but it feels good to keep these two parts of his life separate, even if it’s only for a little while.

When they part ways, Zayn only gives her a quick hug before stepping back. He evades her attempt at a kiss in the cheek, but he tells her he’ll see her for dinner next week.

*

Everything comes to a head two weeks later.

Niall feels guilty about being so busy, not making time for their relationship. Zayn only rolls his eyes and assures him that he understands, but Niall insists on a date night.

“You know what I was thinking?” Niall says after a moment of semi-comfortable silence.

They’re pretty much finished with their meal; Niall is digging into a tiny portion of tiramisu and Zayn is nursing a cup of coffee. They’ve paid their bill, and Zayn is tired and nearly ready to go.

“What?” Zayn asks, biting back a yawn. He’s exhausted, and he hadn’t really wanted to go out in the first place.

“Next Sunday will be the four-year anniversary of the day we met,” Niall says, and there is a happy smile on his face when he looks up from his food to look at Zayn.

“Wait.” Zayn stands up, a little more awake at this point. “You remember the date of that?”

Niall shrugs. “It felt important.”

Zayn is somewhat speechless, but he opens his mouth to at least tell Niall that it had felt important, when someone taps him on the shoulder. When he turns, he finds Amy smiling fondly down at him.

“Oh shit,” Zayn blurts out.

“Thanks a lot, Zayn,” Amy teases. “I was having dinner with some friends, and I saw you from across the room and decided to say hey.”

“I--” Zayn doesn’t know what to say.

“Am I interrupting?” she asks, finally looking across the table and noticing Niall. She extends a hand at him. “Hi. I’m Amy.”

Niall shakes off the confusion from his face and smiles at her and shakes her hand. “I’m Niall, um...do you work with Zayn?”

Amy laughs. “Not really? I work with kids, so. Anyway, this is fun; I was starting to think Zayn didn’t have any friends.” 

Niall seems confused at this. “Um, yeah, I’m sorry I don’t remember him mentioning you.”

“Oh my god, I’m not surprised. I would be embarrassed of the crazy bitch trying to snatch him up by any means necessary.”

Niall turns his eyes to Zayn. The smile is gone from his face. “I’m sure you’re not crazy.”

“Not usually, but those cheekbones do something to me, I swear to God.” She laughs again, and pinches Zayn’s cheek playfully.

“Yeah, those cheekbones make people do stupid things.”

“You get it! Now, maybe you can help me convince him that I’m not totally insane and instead super dateable. Although honestly, I don’t think I could actually date someone so beautiful.”

“Yeah, I don’t either.” Niall finally breaks eye contact with Zayn and turns to give Amy an apologetic smile. “It was nice to meet you, but I think I have to go.”

“Oh yeah, I won’t keep you. Nice meeting you.”

“Niall, wait.” Zayn tries to stop him with a hand on his wrist, but Niall just shakes him off.

“I need some air,” he says, not bothering to spare Zayn a glance.

“Did I say something?” Amy asks, but Zayn doesn’t bother acknowledging her when he’s chasing Niall out of the restaurant.

When he walks out of the restaurant he spends one panicked moment looking around for Niall. He’s relieved to see that he hasn’t done something stupid like walk alone down the street at this hour. Instead, he’s pacing on the sidewalk in front of the little bistro, nails in his mouth, looking at the ground.

“Niall?” Zayn calls out tentatively. He takes a step toward Niall. 

Niall flinches and takes one step back. “Don’t.” 

Zayn doesn’t dare move. 

After taking a shaky breath he asks, “Who was that girl?”

“A friend,” Zayn answers a bit too quickly. 

“Why does she think I’m just your friend?” Niall asks in a voice so small Zayn feels the backs of his eyes water.

“It never came up,” is Zayn’s pathetic answer.

Niall’s gaze turns hard then. “Not even when she kept trying to ‘snatch’ you up?”

“It’s…I can explain.”

Niall crosses his arms over his chest expectantly.

Zayn can’t explain. “It’s not what it looks like at all, I promise you.”

“So you weren’t going to sleep with her?”

It feels like he’s been kicked in the chest. “Of course not,” he says, voice breaking a little. “I would never—”

“Then why didn’t you tell me about her? She was your secret. We don’t—we don’t _keep secrets_ , Zayn. That’s not what we do.”

“She wasn’t a _secret_. I just wasn’t ready to—I wanted to keep you two separate for a little while, that’s all.”

“Why?”

And that part keeps escaping him—the _why_ of it all. He doesn’t understand his actions, doesn’t know why he’d keep someone a secret from the person he cares about most in this world. All he can think to say is, “Everything was moving so fast.”

“All right,” Niall nods as if he understands, but Zayn knows what’s coming next. “I’ll slow it down for you, then; I’m spending the night at Liam’s.”

“Niall—”

“When we started dating, sometimes I would stay up and think, ‘Wow, what is this guy doing with me? He could be with literally anyone else in the world but he chose me. I hope he doesn’t change his mind tomorrow.’ But you never gave me anything to worry about. You loved me. You were the one person in this world that I knew would never hurt me.” Niall takes a long shaky breath in. “But now I’m not so sure.”

“Niall, I wouldn’t,” Zayn says, and tries to get a hand on Niall’s shoulder.

Niall takes a step back. “I’m just confused. I need some time.”

Zayn doesn’t dare say anything else, just nods and follows Niall to the parking lot. The ride home is not going to be fun, and when they’re stopped at their first red light, the silence inside the car is threatening to suffocate Zayn.

When he pulls up in front of their building, his ringtone startles both of them. Zayn lets it go to voicemail, but soon it starts ringing again. “Zayn, if that’s Amy...” Niall says, voice strained in an unfamiliar way.

Zayn takes his phone from his pocket and checks the caller ID. “It’s Jenny.”

“I guess you better get it, then,” Niall says before getting out of the car.

Zayn only watches him go. He sighs, and it sinks in that he has lost the battle that has been tonight, then picks up the phone. “Hello?”

“WE GOT PICKED UP!” comes Jenny’s gravelly voice through the speaker. She sounds like she’s been screaming for a while.

“What?” Zayn asks, heart jumping up to his throat.

“THIRTEEN EPISODES, BITCH!” Gabe chimes in. Suddenly, “Celebrate” starts blasting from their end.

“Oh my god,” Zayn breathes.

“We start shooting in July!” Jenny giggles. “But we’re having a party tomorrow so you better buy a keg because we are getting FUCKED UP!”

“That’s great,” Zayn mutters, unable to think of a more clever response.

“Well I’m hanging up on you, sourpuss,” she scoffs and promptly hangs up on him. He sits there for a few minutes, trying to reconcile the relief that this piece of good news gives him with the overwhelming panic he’s feeling over Niall. 

Niall is waiting outside their door when Zayn finally makes his way upstairs.

“What are you doing out here?” Zayn asks.

“You’ve got the keys,” Niall says, looking so _exhausted_ Zayn just wants to tuck him into bed. “Who called?”

Zayn considers lying; he doesn’t want to diminish this fight with good news. Then he realizes that the source of the problem is Zayn’s propensity to keep things to himself, so he takes a breath and says, “We got picked up.”

Niall’s expression softens, and he doesn’t hesitate before walking over to give Zayn a full body hug. “I’m so happy for you.”

When they get inside, he starts packing. He’s gone in fifteen minutes.

*

Niall’s been sleeping in Harry’s room for the past week. They’ve been in an awkward limbo, where they don’t exactly yell at each other, but they don’t exchange more than one sentence to each other at a time.

Harry hates it.

At the moment, Zayn is trying to ignore his pitiful look as he focuses on the script for this short his friend asked him to be on. It’s something for YouTube, and he’s not getting paid, but the guy’s worked with Jenny’s husband, so he figures he’s legit. Plus, he has Jenny to thank for having steady work come this fall.

Harry lets out another sad sigh, and Zayn finally takes off his glasses to look at him.

“I’m giving him space,” Zayn says, pinching the bridge of his nose. He can feel a headache coming. “He’s still pretty mad at me.”

“Well,” Harry says, leaning forward on the kitchen table. Zayn can see where his new tattoo is still gross and scabby down his loose pajama shirt. “He thinks you were about to cheat on him.”

“I wouldn’t,” Zayn begins to argue, but Harry puts a hand up to shut him up.

“I know that,” Harry says. “But I think there’s more to this than just miscommunication and lies by omission.”

“I wasn’t _trying_ to hurt him,” Zayn nearly snaps. He hates the implication that he was willfully out to screw Niall over. Harry is supposed to know him better than that.

Harry heaves a long frustrated sigh. “That’s not what I’m saying. I just mean that…You don’t really share, is all, and it’s difficult to tell when you’re upset or lost, because you’re so cool so often. I mean, I assume Niall is better at figuring you out—you wouldn’t have been together so long if he wasn’t. I’m just saying…I think Niall hates that he doesn’t really know you as well as he thought he did. I think it scares him a bit.”

And Zayn…hadn’t seen it that way. He knew that the implication of him keeping secrets had hurt Niall, but the realization that Niall couldn’t really _tell_ when Zayn was keeping secrets hurt even more.

At that, Harry leaves Zayn with a pat to his shoulder, presumably to let him ruminate over what he’s just said. But Zayn doesn’t need to ruminate. He knows what he has to do.

*

When Niall comes home—late, as he’s taken to in the past week—Zayn is on the couch, waiting.

“We need to talk, Niall,” Zayn says as soon as the door closes. He’s not letting any more time pass with a heavy silence hanging above them.

“I suppose we do,” Niall says as he takes off his shoes. Zayn can tell that he’s stalling as he slowly places his worn out sneakers in the cubby by the door, but he’s glad to not be the only one nervous here. When he finally makes his way into the living room, Zayn moves to the opposite end of the couch in order to not make Niall uncomfortable. He hasn’t been able to touch Niall in way too long.

“I’m sorry for lying to you,” Zayn says, then swallows a knot forming in his throat. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, and I promise you that I was not planning on cheating on you with Amy. That’s not why I kept you from each other.”

“Then why—” Niall starts, but Zayn grabs his hand in a way that hopefully translates to _‘Please let me finish.’_ It seems to work because Niall quiets and purses his lips.

“I think I was trying to sabotage us—myself, specifically. I’m not sure why—maybe things were getting too perfect and I was scared that if I didn’t mess it up myself something else would and it would be out of my control. The point is…I’m sorry I made you doubt me.”

Zayn can see Niall’s cheeks getting ruddy and his eyes gather moisture, and the way Niall is holding onto his hands make him ache with a need to hold him. So he leans closer and holds his forehead against Niall’s, contact, finally.

“You know me,” Zayn whispers. “You know me better than anyone else in the world.”

Niall breathes in shakily. “I was so scared that I didn’t,” he whispers. “I was scared that I’d gotten you wrong all these years, I—”

“It’s my fault too, I’ve kept things from you—”

“It’s—I’ve kept things from you too; we’re not telepathic, we don’t know every single thing about each other, Zayn.”

“I know but…maybe I’ve kept some important things from you without even realizing. Sometimes you hurt people without even meaning to.”

Niall lets out a wet, fond laugh. “My philosopher. What pretty ideas have you been keeping from me?”

Zayn pulls back to finally get his first good look at Niall’s face in the longest week of his life. His eyes are still red, but he’s got a wobbly smile on his face, and he’s Zayn’s favorite sight, always.

“I think I have a lot to tell you.”

**

Zayn is talking to one of the boom mic operators between takes when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He knows he shouldn’t have it on set, should leave it in his trailer (he has a freaking _trailer_ —he shares it with two other people but still) when he’s working, but these are special circumstances. He’s waiting for this call.

He excuses himself before walking to a secluded area away from most of the crew. He takes one deep breath before hitting the answer button on his screen.

“Hi,” he breathes.

“I placed the bid,” Niall says, and Zayn can feel his excitement through the phone. “It’s only a matter of time until they get back to us.”

“Oh my God,” Zayn whispers, running a thumb across his bottom lip. “This is really real.”

“It’s really real,” Niall says, and laughs, loud and happy. “We’re buying a fucking house.”

“Well, we placed a bid on a house.”

“Let me have this!”

They placed a bid on a house. It’s nothing fancy or in an amazing location. It’s a two bedroom, one bath in Highland Park which would be a commute for Zayn if a) they get it and b) he still has this job if they move. It’s a big step, and they’d spent months agonizing over it.

Zayn had been worried about whether they could swing it financially, but they had been doing fine—better, actually, than they ever have in their years in L.A. Niall is working—really honest-to-god working in productions that have Actual Budgets. He’s garnered some good will with all the broke directors he’d worked with before and had turned into directors that big studios hired to Do Things.

On his end, the pilot that Zayn had shot for Gabe and Jenny had gotten picked up and gotten good enough ratings and reviews to garner a full season order. It’s nearing November, and Zayn cannot believe that he’s got a job set up for the upcoming year.

He’d never actually expected to be working in a sitcom. He’d always pictured himself in gritty depressing dramas, playing junkies and broken people. What he’d never seen in his mind’s eye is him in a classroom set playing the straight man English teacher in a network comedy about the lives of a bunch of screw-ups working at a high school.

“You know, if you hadn’t signed me up for those improv classes I probably wouldn’t be here,” Zayn had whispered to Niall when they’d sneaked into a broom closet during the premiere of the show.

“I always knew you were funny, babe,” Niall had said with a simple shrug. “You just needed a little push. _You_ made all this happen.”

Zayn just had to give him a blowjob then and there.

But back to the present.

“I can’t wait to get home, so I can—” Zayn starts but someone calls for everyone to gather round to go back to shooting.

Niall groans. “Don’t leave me hanging, babe.”

“I’ll be done by six,” Zayn says. “I love you.”

“I love you t—wait,” Niall stops himself. “How are we gonna tell Harry?”

They’ve been putting that off for…a few months.

“Can we talk about that after we have sex?” Zayn asks.

“Fine by me. Love you.”

“Love you.”

*

“So I guess we-might-be-homeowners sex is almost as good as makeup sex,” Niall says after he’s cleaned them both up and crawled back behind Zayn.

“But is it as good as I-got-a-callback sex?” Zayn slurs sleepily into his pillow. It’s only 8 pm, but sex makes him sleepy, and the way Niall is running his knuckles down his forearm is making him even sleepier.

“I think I oughta make a spreadsheet about it or something,” Niall muses.

Zayn scoffs. “You probably already have one, freak.”

“Hey!”

“You can’t BS me, I know you better than anyone.”

“I knew appointing you as the love of my life would come back and bite me in the ass.”

Zayn’s heart skips a beat at that. There is no doubt in either of their minds that what they have is serious, but Niall’s own commitment to this always throws Zayn for a loop. He’s so lucky; they both are.

Instead of saying anything, Zayn simply nips at the tender skin of Niall’s arm under his head. Niall fakes a painful moan but downplays it by curling himself more around Zayn.

“It’ll be weird having a house,” Niall mumbles against the back of his head. “Real grown-up and all that.”

“We are grown-ups,” Zayn says dryly.

“Talk for yourself. I’m still young and nubile.”

“Will you leave me the minute I turn 30?” Zayn asks, faking intense emotion.

“Of course,” Niall says, not missing a beat. “I have to be with someone who can keep up with me sexually. Don’t think I didn’t hear your joints crack, gramps.”

That makes Zayn move. In one quick move, Zayn’s got Niall pinned down on the bed, straddling him. “You think I can’t take you?”

“I think I’m gonna have to run a few tests.”

Zayn lets out a soft laugh and leans down to kiss him when he hears the front door open.

“I’m _hooome_!” Harry calls from the foyer.

“OK he is seriously gifted,” Zayn mutters as Niall groans, then immediately tenses up.

“What are we gonna say to him?” Niall asks in a whisper.

“’Hey Harry we’re planning on moving into a new house which is gonna change things around here a little bit,’” Zayn tries.

“I think you should open with that,” Niall says, leaning back and cracking his spine. His weight is still directly on Zayn’s crotch, so Zayn tosses Niall off his body before he can get any harder.

“Dick,” Zayn mumbles under his breath, then gets up to look for some boxers.

Thirty minutes later, when they’re sitting around the kitchen table, eating their food in comfortable silence, Niall and Zayn keep stealing worried glances over their Pad Thai.

“You guys are being weird,” Harry says, mid chew. “Why does Niall look like he has to poop really bad?”

Niall lets out a squawk of indignation and leans in to firmly deny that they’re acting weird when Zayn places a hand on his elbow.

“We have something to talk to you about,” Zayn says, cautious, as if talking to a scared animal.

“Is this about you guys getting a house?”

“I—”

“How did you know about that?”

“Zayn left a folder full of papers on the coffee table one time. I took a gander.”

“Harry—”

“Listen, I know you guys want to let me down easily, but I’m a grown-up. I can take whatever you swing at me, OK?”

“Harry, we—”

Harry lets out an obnoxiously dramatic sigh. “I knew this couldn’t go on forever. You guys are practically married and I’m your free-spirited bachelor friend. There was no way this was a permanent situation.”

“I wouldn’t call you—Harry, listen—”

“I mean, I guess I could get a place for myself. Maybe a closet. Maybe I can get a roommate to live with me in a closet.”

“Harry!”

“What?”

“We’re not…kicking you out of our lives.”

“We want…Of course we want you to live with us, silly.”

“You do?”

“Yeah! I mean, we wouldn’t just leave you to fend for yourself. Besides, it’s not gonna be cheap and we could use your rent money, to be completely honest.”

“And who would help with the backyard?”

“Harry…”

“Harry, please don't cry.”

*

During the next few weeks, Harry acts as if the new house is already theirs.

“I don’t know whether we should paint the living room walls a dark color,” Harry mutters mostly to himself. “Or if we should just do white all throughout the house.” He’s sitting in front of the vision board he’s filled with pictures of the house, along with stuff from different house decorating magazines he’s started collecting.

“I think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves,” Niall tells him from his place in the kitchen. “The house isn’t even ours.”

“Yet!” Harry adds immediately. “Positive thoughts, Niall. Didn’t you read the copy of _The Secret_ I got you for your birthday last year?”

“I can’t read,” Niall mutters off handedly, then turns back toward the stove.

Harry simply harrumphs and gets back to his vision board. Zayn doesn’t pay attention to Harry as he mumbles about more things to put into the new house. He’s going through Doniya’s facebook page on Niall’s iPad, looking through an album full of her two-year-old dressed as a lion for Halloween. He’s about to stand up to show Niall when his phone starts vibrating on the coffee table.

“Zayn could you get that?” Harry asks. “I can’t visualize our future home with that ruckus.”

Zayn doesn’t say a word when he gets up to grab his phone and move to the bedroom to take the call. He does, however, give Harry a slap in the back of his head as he walks past him and out of the living room.

His screen tells him it’s his agent, so when he picks up he only says, “Yeah?”

“Have you ever thought about getting an assistant?” Craig says, skipping all pleasantries. At this point there is no need anyway.

“No,” Zayn says simply, running a hand down the dusty surface of one their shelves. There’s a film of dust covering the framed photos and assorted knick knacks arranged on there, and he knows Niall will want to do a winter version of spring cleaning soon.

“Well you should think about it,” Craig continues, and Zayn can hear keys clacking on his end. “I’ve got your schedule on my screen right now and I honestly don’t know how you of all people manages to remember all of this shit.”

Zayn only shrugs. “I’ve got all this on my phone? Besides Niall and I synchronize our schedules every month.”

“Of course you fucking do, you weirdos,” Craig scoffs. “Anyway, you remember that script I sent you last week? The one about the Muslim gay lovers in London?”

“Yeah?” Zayn’s breath catches a little, because, _yes_ , he definitely remembers that script. _‘A British_ Brokeback Mountain,’ was how Craig had described it when he’d sent it to him, _‘but happier.’_ After he’d read it, he’d wordlessly handed it to Niall, who had cried the entire way through it and held onto Zayn tightly for a really long time after setting it down. “Yeah.”

“Well, they want you to send a tape in,” Craig says, and Zayn lets out a shaky breath. “I’ll e-mail you all the info. Maybe you can get your husband to film you or whatever.”

“He’s not—You know what? Thanks, man.”

“No problem.”

After Zayn hangs up, he sits wordlessly on the bed. He can hear Niall yell about dinner being ready in five minutes, and he can picture Harry, still on the couch and visualizing their little house.

After taking one long breath, Zayn gets up and makes his way toward the kitchen. He can hear an music playing from the speakers plugged into Niall’s phone by the sink. Niall is shaking his hips and singing theatrically along to “Get Me Bodied” as he stirs the pot of pasta sauce.

“Could you set the table, babe?” Niall asks without turning around. “And tell Harry to put that thing away it’s starting to stress me out, to be honest.”

“Sure,” Zayn says, but doesn’t make a move to do either of those things, only leans against the fridge and looks at Niall’s skinny frame moving to the music.

Soon enough Niall senses that Zayn isn’t moving and he turns to look at him. He laughs and asks, “What’s up? I got something on me?”

Zayn shakes his head and moves toward the shelf where they keep their plates. “I was just thinking.”

“Gonna get you in trouble one of these days,” Niall teases.

Zayn doesn’t say anything, just bites lightly at Niall’s shoulder through his t-shirt on his way to set the table.

**

Zayn’s been ready to be married to Niall for three years.

If it were up to Zayn, he’d have proposed a long time ago. He knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Niall a year into their relationship, but he didn’t actually think he was ready until two years later. Then things had gotten a little harder on the financial side of things, and he didn’t think he wanted to propose to Niall without a ring or the promise of financial security.

Now that things are going well, Zayn finds himself making stops at jewelry stores on his way to Home Depot for different things Niall has asked him to get for the new house on his way home from work. It’s during one of these clandestine trips that Zayn runs into, of all people, Liam.

“Hello, stranger,” Liam whispers into Zayn’s ear as he’s looking through the display cases. Zayn jumps, and Liam laughs good-naturedly as he rubs a soothing hand down Zayn’s arm.

“Nice, Liam,” Zayn huffs out a little annoyed, but mostly happy to see Liam. Life’s been pretty hectic for all of them for a few months now. Liam and Louis’s podcast was touring across the country the last Zayn heard, and Zayn’s, well.

“Heard you’re doing a movie with Charlize Theron,” Liam says.

“I don’t know where you heard that,” Zayn says, warming up a little.

“So it’s not true?”

It is, but Zayn doesn’t have a very big part in it, and he doesn’t like to talk about his work anyway, so he only shrugs.

“Anyway,” Liam laughs. “I was just walking by and I saw you through the window.” He takes another look around the place, apparently only just realizing where they are. “Are you shopping?”

“I was just browsing,” Zayn says, shrugging in a way that he hopes is casual. “My mom’s birthday is in a couple of weeks.”

“That’s nice,” Liam says, and Zayn doesn't know if Liam is buying this, but with one last hug, Liam bids his goodbyes, assuring Zayn that they’ll catch up soon, and leaves.

Zayn doesn’t end up buying anything that day, but he does leave with some pictures on his phone of some rings he’d liked. He thinks about bringing Harry along with him next time, but then tosses that idea when he thinks of how horrible Harry would be about keeping this particular thing a secret.

He’s going to need help, though.

*

“Have you tried going through his Pinterest?” Louis asks through a mouthful of peanut butter. “That’s what I did.”

Zayn is at Louis’s house, playing Super Smash and smoking weed and discussing the type of ring that would be right for Niall. As a married guy, and a person relatively removed from ZaynandNiall, Zayn had thought of Louis as a pretty good person to talk to about this.

“Niall doesn’t have a Pinterest,” Zayn says, trying, and failing, to focus on the game. “And he doesn’t wear jewelry. Well, he wears watches, but—”

“I don’t care,” Louis mumbles, still mostly engaged in the game.

“—he only wears the ones he gets as presents. He never buys any for himself.”

“Well his engagement ring will technically be a present, so he’ll wear it no matter what it looks like.”

“Were you this much of a dick when you were gonna propose?” Zayn asks, throwing the controller onto the coffee table.

“Of course,” Louis answers easily. He takes one glance at Zayn’s poorly disguised worried face then sighs and pauses the game. “Honestly, Eleanor and I’s engagement wasn’t a huge production. We were in bed one night, just talking about stuff and then decided that we were engaged. We went shopping for a ring the next day.”

Zayn lets out a long sigh. The picture he’s got in his mind is…more elaborate than that.

He doesn’t consider himself a romantic, but he probably is anyway. He believes in fate and predestination, and he believes that he and Niall were predestined to meet at that shitty gig six years ago. He’s also an actor, so he is a theatrical person. But he also has this picture in his head, of him and Niall telling the story of how they got engaged to their kids and to their kids’ kids. It scares him how far along he’s thought of him and Niall’s lives together, but it also sends a thrill down his spine.

“I just…I don’t express myself very often. I just want Niall to know, for sure, how I feel about him.”

“I think a proposal is pretty strong language.”

“I know but…He deserves a grand gesture.”

“Well, let’s start with that ring. Then we’ll work on the grand gesture.”

“Thanks, man.”

“No problem. Now open the windows; I have to Febreeze the shit out of this room before El gets home.”

*

Zayn’s lying on their bed, almost halfway asleep, when Niall unceremoniously drops himself onto his lap and says, “Let’s get a dog.”

“Hello to you too,” Zayn mumbles against Niall’s lips as he leans up to kiss him. Niall’s been in Toronto for six weeks and Zayn has missed him like crazy. Zayn had offered to pick him up from the airport, but Harry had insisted that it would only take Niall longer to get home if he did that because paparazzi would obviously swarm Zayn.

“Nobody knows who I am, babe,” Zayn had told him, equal parts skeptical and endeared.

“Have you Googled your name lately?” Harry asked, and they’d spent the next hour on JustJared, looking at pictures of Zayn walking down the street.

So Harry had gone to pick Niall up from the airport.

“Hi,” Niall says, kissing him multiple times. “How are you”—kiss—“I missed you”—kiss—“Let’s get a dog.”

Zayn’s a little more awake now, so he pushes himself up to a sitting position and holds Niall’s hips to steady him. “Where’s this coming from?”

“Well, when I was on the plane I was thinking about how I’d been gone for so long and how you’ll be leaving me in a week to fucking England and I just thought…I’m gonna need something to cuddle at night.”

“You’ve got Harry.”

“Yeah, but Harry gets all sweaty,” Niall mutters, scrunching up his nose at some memory, and Zayn leans in to nip at it. “No biting!”

“Six weeks, babe,” Zayn mumbles against Niall’s neck. He smells like the stale air of the plane, but the familiar scent of Niall is still so welcome. “I can’t make any promises.”

“You damn dirty dog!” Niall laughs and tries to get off Zayn, who only holds on tighter to his hips. “I knew you only wanted me for my body.”

After some maneuvering, Zayn manages to get Niall under him; hands pinned on the bed above his head.

Niall manages a smug “Well, hello” right before Zayn effectively shuts him up with a kiss.

It’s been weeks and weeks of sloppy mediocre Skype sex, of looking up mid-jerk to see Niall snoring against his camera. He is so eager for it, for Niall’s skin on his, for his mouth, his hair. He can barely stop kissing him for a second in order to pull his shirt off him.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Niall says, breathlessly pulling at Zayn’s own shirt. “Been thinking about you for hours. Could barely wait to get you like this.”

“God,” Zayn mumbles before going in for another long passionate kiss. He begins working on Niall’s jeans before Niall gasps out a, “Wait.”

“I can’t—”

“My iPod, it’s in my backpack, you should—”

“Niall, I’m not—”

“Zayn, it’ll take one second—”

“Niall, I am not fucking to Fleetwood Mac again—”

“I wasn’t even gonna play that! _Zayn_ …”

“OK,” Zayn manages to pin a half naked Niall onto his back once again. “I haven’t seen you in six weeks. I haven’t had real, honest-to-God sex with you in that long. Please, _please_ , stop fussing and let me have sex with you.”

Niall sighs once, long and tired. “I guess, since you asked so nicely.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Zayn mumbles once before going back in.

It isn’t long before Niall is wrestling his way back on top of Zayn, but this time they’re both naked and Zayn is inside him. Being able to touch Niall, to breathe his air, and hold him is amazing, but actually getting to feel him, to hear the little puffs of air he lets out as Zayn pumps into him, to taste the sweat forming along his neck is…

“I missed you so much,” Zayn mumbles against Niall’s skin.

“I am never leaving— _fuck, like that_ —ever again,” Niall says–no _moans_ –into Zayn’s hair. “ _Shit fucking Christ_ , keep doing that.”

Zayn tries to recreate whatever move’s getting Niall bucking like that, so he grips Niall’s hips tighter to gain momentum. Whatever he does makes Niall hiss and scratch harder at Zayn’s back, so he increases his speed and grips tighter. He can feel himself lose control, getting closer and closer to the edge with each thrust and each little noise Niall makes.

“Shit, babe,” Zayn groans which Niall follows with a long moan and a raspy, “ _Come on_.”

Zayn is only too happy to oblige, so he flips them once again and begins going in on a more erratic pace. He feels so close, and he opens his mouth to tell Niall, but he beats him to the punch by shouting, “Jesus _fuck_ just _marry_ me already!” and coming all over his stomach.

“What did you just say?” Zayn asks breathlessly, but he’s still thrusting and at that moment Niall clenches around him and he’s unexpectedly coming with a startled, “Oh, _fuck_!”

Niall peppers kisses across his face while he’s coming down, mumbling, “I missed you, I missed you, I missed you” like a mantra.

After a moment, Niall lies down on the pillows, fingers lazily tracing patterns on Zayn’s knees where he’s still sitting straight.

“What the fuck?” Zayn finally says.

“What, babe?” Niall mumbles sleepily. His eyes are closed and he looks like he’s ready to drift off. Like hell.

“ _Niall_ ,” Zayn says with a slap to Niall’s chest.

“What’d I do?” Niall asks, affronted. “You came; I saw you! You’re a good actor but even you can’t fake semen coming out of your penis.”

“Niall, you _proposed_!” Zayn nearly yells in frustration.

“I did?” Niall asks.

“ _You did_!” comes Harry’s voice from outside their room.

“Were you listening the whole time?” Niall calls out, but they don’t get a response. “I knew we should’ve played music; he’s such a creep.”

“Niall!” Zayn slaps him upside the head this time. “You _proposed_ mid-fuck!”

“I was in the headspace!” Niall scrambles up to a sitting position, knocking Zayn off of him in the process. “I was in the moment!”

Zayn pauses. Despite the shock, and despite the fact that it hadn’t happened in a way he had planned, he can’t deny how excited he’d been when he heard Niall say the word “marry me” to him. He braces himself and asks, “So you don’t mean it?”

Niall lets out a long and exhausted sigh. “I’m not sure.”

“What the fuck?” Zayn slaps Niall on his naked chest, doesn’t even bother pretending he doesn’t want to hurt him.

“I just got caught up in the moment,” Niall says, in a way that is probably soothing but makes Zayn narrow his eyes at him.

“So you don’t want to marry me?”

“Well I don’t wanna not marry you. Does that makes sense?”

“No.” It does, sort of, but Zayn feels like being difficult.

“I want to be with you for as long as you let me. And, honestly, being married to you is not something that I would be against but… The timing’s not right, you know?”

“Then why’d you say anything, you idiot?” Despite his earlier disappointment, Zayn can feel his heart start to unclench.

“It just came out of me?” Niall tries, starting to heat up again. “Look, I’m sorry, I just—I really missed you. Like, I _really_ missed you and I don’t know what came over me, OK? You know how you got me all dickmatized.”

“I had forgotten how romantic you were,” Zayn says dryly.

“Wait, listen, this is important.” Niall runs his hands up Zayn’s sweaty chest and to his face to keep his eye contact. “I don’t want you to think that because I stupidly proposed to you mid-orgasm and then took it back I want to break up.”

“I wasn’t—” Zayn tries, even though it’s not totally accurate.

“Well maybe you weren’t.” He leans in to leave a chaste kiss on his forehead. “But I just wanted you to know. For sure. You’re not getting rid of me, baby.”

“Is that so?”

“No way. I’m it.”

*

They’re at an impasse. Niall isn’t any less loving than he’s ever been, and before Zayn leaves for London, he tells him all the ways he’s going to miss him with words and with touches.

Zayn leaves the ring hidden under some comic books and stray documents inside his bedside table drawer.

**

The studio is freezing cold.

Zayn wants nothing more than to bundle up in a hoodie and sweatpants, but this photo shoot isn’t even halfway done. The woman who had styled him in a pink tank top with flowers and a matching pair of shorts didn’t seem to care that they were shooting this in a meat freezer. It’s certainly not the most uncomfortable he’s ever been, but he definitely wishes he had at least another layer on.

This isn’t his first photo shoot, isn’t even the first time he’s going to be featured in a magazine. It is his first cover, though, and he’s still only half capable of computing this. It’s not GQ or anything, but a few weeks ago he had a real life reporter shadow him for a few days in order to _write an article about him_ and that’s a lot to wrap his head around.

“Zayn could you hold that?” the photographer asks in a nicer voice than Zayn expects. Zayn does as he’s told and keeps looking disinterestedly at a spot beyond the camera. He thinks he’s pretty good at these things, if he says so himself, and he really does enjoy this part. Getting dressed up and looking good for cameras isn’t the hardest of jobs, and once in a while he gets to take an item of clothing. There are worse things he could be doing.

A few minutes later, when Zayn has to change into a different outfit, he sneaks a look at his phone to check if he’s gotten any messages. He’s got a smattering of texts from his mom and Harry, a missed call from Ben, but he scrolls past those to a notice from Niall. He opens what turns out to be a picture of Cooper in the back porch covered in suds. Under that picture is a selfie of Niall holding Coop to his side and smiling big for the camera.

They’ve had Cooper, a vizsla and pitbull mix, for all of three months and Zayn doesn’t remember a time before him. Hiking with Coop has become a weekly tradition now, a hard one to keep, as Zayn’s been gone more often than not. Zayn had complained about missing out on their lives because of work stuff, so now Niall sends him as many pictures of Coop as he can humanly take. He also sends as many selfies, and Zayn is thankful.

Zayn takes a quick selfie and sends it before he has to go and change.

After all the photos have been taken, he has to do a short interview for the magazine’s website. They ask him about the things he likes to do on his day off ( _Chill out, mostly. I’m a homebody, really._ ), his upcoming projects ( _We’re in the middle of shooting the second season of the show, but I shot something in London last month so that should be out sometime next year I think?_ ), and his favorite movie ( _I’d say_ The Goonies. _That movie is sick._ ).

As he’s heading toward his car, his phone beeps with a new message. When he checks his phone he’s got a message from Harry saying he’s got dinner cooking and a big announcement, as well as a series of texts from Niall that simply contain a string of emojis.

By the time he gets home he’s starving and eager to see Cooper. Maybe they can take him out for a long walk after dinner. He dumps his backpack on the floor next to the coat rack knowing full well that Niall is going to pick it up grumpily while mumbling about Zayn’s inability to pick up after himself. They’ve been doing this for five years; he should know by now that Zayn won’t change his habits.

He hears Niall’s voice call his name through the sliding doors leading to the backyard. As soon as he crosses the threshold of their living room to the back porch, Cooper bum rushes and tries to climb onto Zayn, as per usual.

“Hi, buddy,” Zayn greets him happily and leans down to give Coop a hug. “I missed you too, pal.”

“You go wash up now,” Niall orders him, pointing at him with a skewer. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

“I thought Harry was cooking,” Zayn says, scratching Coop’s ears one last time before standing up to peck Niall on the lips.

“Harry is on time-out,” Niall says, and Zayn finally noticed a pouty Harry sitting at their patio table. He’s wearing a novelty apron with a semi-naked body builder on it and a chef’s hat placed sadly on his head. “He almost broke my grill.”

“I didn’t know!” Harry insists, probably for the thousandth time that night.

“Well, now you do!” He turns to Zayn. “How was the shoot?”

Zayn shrugs. “Fun. Easy. Kind of cold. They didn’t didn’t let me wear anything but shorts.”

“Who would wanna see your skinny legs?” Niall teases.

“You like my skinny legs just fine.”

“Yeah, yeah. Take this to the table, will ya.”

Soon enough they’re eating, each of them pretending not to notice anyone else sneaking food to Cooper once in a while.

“I thought you had news?”

“Right! I have news!” Harry says and claps his hands. He stands up and takes a breath before smiling really big and asking, “Guess who got us tickets to the Beyoncé show at the Rose Bowl in November.”

They drop their utensils.

“You did not,” Niall whispers.

“Harry,” Zayn gasps.

“Feel free to shower me in praise as well as sexual favors.”

Niall gets out of his seat to hug him and kiss him sloppily in the forehead. Harry looks happy as a clam after that, and Zayn can only smile gratefully at him.

“Oh, by the way,” Harry says, sitting down. “I’m moving out.”

“Wait, what the hell?” Niall’s expression changes from ecstatic to completely confused and a little big angry in half a second. “When—what?”

“I’ve been looking at places lately,” Harry says, casually placing a kebab on his plate. “I found one I really like. You guys can come see it with me this week if you like?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Niall asks, which only earns him a pout from Harry and a calming hand on his arm from Zayn.

“Why didn’t you tell us you wanted to move out earlier, Harry?” Zayn asks calmly. “We could have helped you look at places.”

Harry shrugs, and after swallowing a mouthful of food says, “I wanted to do this on my own. I think it’s time.”

And considering the fact that they have been living together as a unit for going on six years now, Harry has a point. Zayn never thought Harry would be living with them forever, but he had only ever thought of him going on his own in a nebulous, far off, conceptual way. Harry has always been a great person to live with too—clean, hygienic, respectful of privacy, if a little prone to nudity—so neither Zayn nor Niall have spent any time thinking about him moving out.

“Besides,” Harry says, chewing on a mouthful of the elaborate garden salad he’d insisted on making. “Hearing you guys have sex has, after all these years, gotten old.”

*

Cooper has been running around, leading Harry on a merry chase around the dog park for a while, when he comes back to flop himself on top of Zayn, waking him up.

“Hey, baby,” Zayn mumbles sleepily, running a hand down Cooper’s fur as he tries to climb on top of him.

“Hello, sleepyhead,” Harry greets him, dumping his cartoon body next to him. “How was your nap? Any interesting dreams?”

“Yeah,” Zayn replies offhandedly. Cooper is lapping at a treat in Zayn’s hand. He’s only allowed one a day, according to Niall, but he’s already onto his second one. “I dreamed about you.”

“Oh my god.” Harry looks genuinely taken by this. “What was it about? I didn’t bring my dream journal, but I’m sure I can figure it out at this point; I’ve gotten really good at this stuff.”

“I don’t know, man, it was weird.” Zayn scratches behind Cooper’s ears, listening as the dog whines in pleasure. “You were bald and all your teeth were gone.”

“Ha ha ha,” Harry replies in a monotone, absentmindedly tugging at his hair. “Don’t be mean to me. I’m helping you plan your dream proposal. I could spill the beans to Niall right now and ruin it all for you.”

“Don’t think you can ruin it more than the first time, bro.” Zayn settles back down on the grass with Cooper’s head on his tummy.

“I guess that was pretty bad,” Harry mumbles contemplatively. He lies down on his back next to Zayn, hands hooked behind his head. Zayn appreciates the casualness with which he treats the fragile status of his future.

“Thanks, bro.”

“Well no.” Harry turns and stands his face on his arm. “Think of it this way: you’ve already got one foot in the door. He’s pretty much already thinking about marriage with you. Now you just have to present that option in a more serious setting.”

“What if he says no, though? We don’t really talk about this stuff that often.”

“So you’ve got the element of surprise on your side!”

“But I need to make sure that—”

“Zayn.”

“Yes, Harry?” Zayn huffs out, totally fucking exasperated and scared. He’s been thinking about doing this for months. The fiasco before his trip to London had postponed things a bit, and they’ve been too busy for any real planning, but when Harry had found the ring while he was snooping around ( _I was looking for my birth certificate!_ ), the plans had been set in motion once again.

“Oh I know! You can put a banner on Cooper that says ‘Will you marry me’ and then when he says yes we play ‘You’re Still the One’ by Shania Twain.”

“Niall doesn’t listen to Shania Twain.”

“But it’s such a pretty song.”

“I don’t want it to be a big thing.” Zayn closes his eyes against the orange of the setting sun. “I just want him to say yes.”

*

Zayn wants to hold Niall’s hands so badly.

Earlier, when they had walked the red carpet of the premiere of the movie Niall had worked so hard on, he wanted to hold his hand.

When they were sitting in the dark, watching it, and Niall had tensed up like a board for nearly two hours, Zayn had covered Niall’s hand for one second, and then moved it onto his lap.

And now, as they mingle with actors and producers and different people who may or may not be involved in the movie, Zayn watches Niall talk to a gaffer with this ease, and he wants to hold his hand.

“Where do you think they’re hiding the food?” Niall’s question pulls Zayn out of his head. He blinks himself back to reality, and Niall smiles, knowing full well that Zayn wasn’t paying attention. “Where were you, dreamer?”

“With you,” Zayn answers, almost like a reflex. Niall’s nose scrunches up in delight, and Zayn smiles right back, nearly forgetting where they are.

“Thank you for coming, by the way,” Niall says, finally looking away to scan the room for any waiters. “I know you don’t really like this part.”

It’s one of Zayn’s least favorite parts of this whole thing. He’s not an antisocial person, but exposure to too many people exhaust him. After parties like these, he always needs a vast amount of alone time. Niall is always his plus one to these things, though, and he couldn’t deny him this time. Besides, he’s _proud_ of Niall, and these people are celebrating his work. He honestly can’t see himself anywhere else at the moment.

Well—

Zayn clears his throat and casually leans in to talk quietly into his ear. “Seeing you in a suit is reward enough.” Zayn pulls back a little to see how red Niall is getting already, then goes back in to say, “Well, maybe seeing you out of it would be better.”

“You fucking—” Niall begins hissing, already flustered to boot, when he’s interrupted by someone calling his name.

A small white woman with closely cropped dirty blonde hair and a pointy nose walks up to them. She looks to be around their age, and the blazer she’s got on looks like it’s close to being taken off. Zayn takes her to be one of those people who doesn’t enjoy these things either, but mostly because she probably wants to get right back to doing something important like working or planting trees.

“I thought if I found you I would also find the booze,” she says unceremoniously. “You’ve disappointed me, Horan.”

“Thanks, Nora,” Niall laughs, then gestures at Zayn. “Zayn, this is our leader, Nora Dunne. Nora, this is Zayn.”

“Nice to meet you—Oh!” Finally, a waiter walks past them and Nora snatches two flutes of champagne for herself. Niall manages to grab two more, and hands Zayn one. Before Zayn’s begun to sip on his, Nora’s already downed her first and is working on her second.

“I needed that,” Nora mumbles, eyes closed, as if she’s centering herself. “OK.” She opens her eyes again and takes a good look at Zayn. “Well shit, you’re beautiful.”

“Thanks,” Zayn says, and takes another drink. “I really liked your movie.”

Her eyes brighten up at that. “Thanks. I—” She lets out a laugh that sounds…relieved. “You know, I like that compliment because it’s like. You just _like_ it, you know? You don’t give me bullshit about symbolism or whatever. You just liked it.”

“I…” Zayn doesn’t know what else to do beside drink more champagne.

“I take it you’re not having a lot of fun tonight, Nora.” Niall hands her his own flute.

“No, it’s fine, I just hate everyone here.” She tosses back the contents of the third flute, the other two nowhere to be seen, and heaves a long suffering sigh. “I don’t hate you though. What did you say your name was? I wasn’t paying attention before.”

“Zayn,” Zayn says and bites his cheek so he doesn’t laugh.

“Well, you are very nice and very beautiful, Zayn. What do you do?”

“Um.” Zayn laughs sheepishly. “I’m an actor.”

“Very nice to meet you.”

*

They’re running late.

“Stop jittering, babe,” Niall says and then takes a gulp of red wine to wash down the mouthful of chicken masala.

“I’m not jittering,” Zayn mumbles irritably before hastily stuffing a forkful of rice into his mouth. “Eat your food.”

“I am eating my food,” Niall laughs.

“Well how come I’m almost done with my plate and you’re not even halfway through?”

“I don’t know, maybe because I’m not wolfing it down like an animal. Zayn, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, just. I’m tired, that’s all.”

“Well, you were the one that said we should go out to get dinner, you know.”

“I know, but today was longer than I’d expected and I’ve had a headache for a while.” Lies, lies, lies, all lies. His day hadn’t been long at all; it’d been filled with excited chatter about Zayn’s plans for that night. Jenny had promised to bring a penis-shaped cake with the words “Congratulations” spurting out of the top of it. Zayn had vetoed that idea, but he’s still not sure that inviting her was the smartest thing.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Niall says apologetically, and reaches across the table to hold his hand and run a soothing thumb across his knuckles. “Thanks for taking me out even though you were feeling poorly.”

A warm feeling blooms from his chest and spreads to the rest of his body. A fraction of his nervousness dissipates and is replaced with a measured confidence.

There is a chance that Niall will say no. They’ve talked and talked and talked about their commitment to each other, they bought a house together, they adopted a dog. Once, during a visit to see Niall’s nephew, they’d even casually discussed the possibility of children. Niall hasn’t once given Zayn a reason to think that he isn’t in this for the long haul. But there is still no guarantee.

“I love you,” Zayn says, because he does. In this moment, Zayn loves Niall, and if in an hour everything has gone to shit, at least he gets to tell him that right now.

Niall smiles at him, mouth full of food, and Zayn wants to shrink him and put him in his pocket. It’s an embarrassing thought, he supposes, but when it comes to Niall he doesn’t much care.

Eventually, and much to Zayn’s relief, Niall, with much fanfare, announces that he is finished. Zayn quickly takes care of the check, and leads Niall outside with a gentle hand to his lower back.

“You are pushy tonight,” Niall mumbles against Zayn’s cheek. Zayn gives his ticket to the valet and wills himself not to blush. Niall doesn’t usually get like this, but he gulped his wine rather quickly at the behest of Zayn. “Maybe I can help you with that headache once we get home?”

“Babe,” Zayn laughs and places a steadying hand on Niall’s shoulder. “Take it easy.”

“Sorry, I just—” He’s interrupted by the sounds of a shutter going off and the bright lights of a flash. “What the hell?”

Zayn blinks away the spots running through his vision and focuses on a guy who’s filming them and another one who keeps taking pictures.

It’s happened once or twice; he’ll be a hot spot because of a work related event and some guys in hoodies will follow him for a while until they get a good shot. This restaurant isn’t a popular hangout for the rich and famous, and Zayn doesn’t consider himself interesting enough to be followed, so what’s happening right now is more confusing than anything. He’s never before been inclined to acknowledge these micro aggressions to his personal life, but Niall’s breathing has picked up a little and his face is beginning to get blotchy.

“I wish I hadn’t gulped that third glass so quick,” Niall tries to joke, but he contradicts himself with how out of breath he sounds.

“Sorry, babe,” Zayn whispers, and he wants to kiss his forehead so badly, but the guy with the film camera is shouting questions at him, and the rest of the people waiting for their cars are starting to stare.

“Hey, I think you guys got enough stuff,” Zayn calls out in a tone that he hopes is equal parts placating as it is commanding.

They ask him to answer some questions for them, but Zayn doesn’t really want to. He’s wondering where their god damn car is when the guy that’s filming gets a little too close to Niall and nearly hits him with his camera.

“Hey, man!” Zayn snaps at him. “Chill out, yeah?”

“Sorry, man, but your boy here’s a little tipsy—” the fucking guy starts.

“Yeah, well, watch it, all right?”

“Chill bro,” the other guy decides to add.

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” he snaps.

“Babe, babe, it’s OK. Our car’s here. It’s OK.”

The car pulls up in front of them, and Zayn helps Niall into the passenger seat. 

“Are you all right, baby?” Niall asks, face scrunched up in concern. He only ever calls him “baby” when he’s worried, and Zayn bemoans the fact that this night isn’t turning out the way he’d planned at all.

Zayn lets out a long, tired sigh. “Let’s just go home.”

“The attention, though...That must mean you’re doing something right, no?”

Zayn looks over at Niall’s comforting smile. He reaches out a hand to place it on his neck. “Don’t much care what they think, to be honest.”

He spends the rest of the drive home debating whether to postpone this whole event. Every time he checks his phone and reads Harry’s stream of updates—all positive and really excited—he doesn’t text him back. 

When they pull up to their driveway, Zayn doesn’t waste any time in getting out of the car and rushing to the other side to open Niall’s door. Niall gives him a confused “thank you” and grabs a hold of Zayn’s hand as Zayn practically sprints to the house.

“Why is the door unlocked?” Niall asks as Zayn leads them into the house. “Is Harry here? We’re gonna have to talk to him about this.”

“Sure, babe,” Zayn mutters under his breath as he leads Niall toward the backyard.

“Wait, what if it’s a burglar—”

“I guarantee that it’s not a burglar.”

“But what if it is?”

“Niall?” Zayn stops walking just as they reach the sliding door that leads to the backyard and turns to place his hands on Niall’s shoulders. “It’s not a burglar.”

Then he knocks twice at the glass and sees Niall’s face go slack as the backyard lights up behind him.

Wordlessly, Zayn slides the door open and leads Niall outside. There are fairy lights hanging up all along the expanse of the backyard, just like he’d discussed with Harry. Niall’s parents are here, along with his brother and his own family. Then there are Liam and Louis holding tablets, showing Zayn’s family on a FaceTime call from Minnesota. There’s Jenny and Gabe and some of his friends from UCB. There’s Josh, who’s filming the entire thing. And then there’s Harry, grinning like a madman and holding a boombox like anyone else would hold a teddy bear.

“Zayn?” Niall looks at his surroundings with wide, confused eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Um.” Zayn grabs a hold of Niall’s hands, which are sweaty and cold. “I know we’ve sort of already done this once, and it didn’t go great. But I was hoping you’d changed your mind since then.”

“Zayn…” Niall’s breathing is coming quicker, and his face has become red and blotchy.

“I wanted, um.” Zayn lets go of Niall’s hands in order to go through his jacket to take out the box that’s been burning a hole through his pocket.

He gets down on one knee. Niall freezes.

“Right so.” Zayn clears his throat before continuing. “In improv there’s this concept of ‘yes, and’ right? It’s basically like, not rejecting ideas for a scene, because if you say no it stops the flow of what we’re doing. Anyway, when I was trying to think of what to say right now I kept thinking about how you never say no to me. You’re always encouraging me to keep going, to open myself to new things, and I.” He takes a deep breath before opening the box. “I guess all I’m hoping for is another ‘yes’?”

Niall tackles him to the ground.

Zayn can hear their friends laugh around him, but the feeling of Niall’s arms around him mutes it all.

“Niall?” Zayn mumbles against Niall’s hair. Niall scrambles to his haunches so he’s no longer nearly suffocating him. “Hey, so will you—”

“Of course I’ll marry you, dummy!” Niall laughs, slapping him in the chest.

“He said yes!” Harry yells happily, and everybody cheers. “Let’s celebrate love!”

Harry presses the play button on his boom box and Shaggy’s voice begins singing _Honey came in and she caught me red-handed sleeping with the girl next door…_

“Oh. Wrong Shaggy song, sorry.”

He presses another button and _Girl you’re my angel, you’re my darling angel…Closer than my peeps you are to me, baby…_

Zayn can feel their friends laugh and talk around them, but he can only focus on the guy sitting on him.

“We’re gonna get married,” Zayn mumbles happily up at Niall.

 _“Going to the chapel and we’re,”_ Niall sings softly, leaning down to kiss Zayn sweetly. _“Gonna get ma-a-arried…”_

They’ll have to join the rest of the party soon. Zayn’s in no rush, though.

**

To say that Zayn isn’t used to this kind of fanfare would be an understatement.

During the last couple of years, he’s become accustomed to the pomp and circumstance that comes with Serious Film Festivals. This is Cannes though.

He’s standing between his co-star Tahar and Tarsem _freaking_ Singh, posing for the seemingly millions of cameras. He worked with them for two months and he still gets giddy at the thought, but he keeps his face impassive and expressionless. _‘Hit ‘em with the smolder,’_ had been Niall’s advice before he sent him off halfway around the world.

Zayn misses his fiancé.

It is highly inconvenient that Niall is so in demand right now, honestly. He’s working with Nora again, in a music video for one of her musician friends this time, and she’s got Niall as DP again. They seem to have built a rapport, and Niall had told him that once Nora trusts someone she tends to not want to start again with other people. Zayn can understand that, and he’s happy for Niall, but he wishes he were here right now.

Tahar’s wife, Leila, is here with him, and now they’re standing beautifully, posing for the cameras. Zayn allows himself a moment to be jealous.

Only a moment, though. He’s wearing a thousand dollar sweater, shoes that cost at least half that much, and a diamond on his ear that he didn’t even pay for. He’s doing pretty well.

*

There’s a buzz.

After the screening of the film at the historical and very intimidating theater, they’d received a standing ovation. It was shocking. He knew the movie was good; he didn’t expect all of these people to _like_ it.

During the after parties though, people of too many different nationalities to count came up to him to congratulate him. He’s taking it all in stride, considering, but it’s still a little confusing. This kind of attention is…new.

Zayn is wearing Alexander McQueen and he was just complimented by Tilda _freaking_ Swinton, and it’s all fun and great, but he sneaks into a bathroom stall to call Niall. It’s noon in LA, and Niall could be busy, but he holds out hope and lets it ring anyway.

Zayn lets out a relieved breath when his call connects.

“Aren’t you supposed to be shmoozin’ and drinkin’ and partyin’?” is the first thing Niall asks. “Are you in a bathroom?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you should be out there making friends.”

“It’d be easier if you were here.”

There’s no answer right away, just the sound of some movement happening at the other end of the line.

“OK, so here’s the thing,” Niall’s voice comes back and he seems to have locked himself in a closet because he can’t hear anything else. “You know how Louis’s wife writes for The AV Club?”

“Yeah?”

“Well every time someone writes a story about you she emails it to me, and let me tell you, Zayn, they’re talking about you.”

“Niall.”

“No, like. She just sent me this write-up of today, but then I started Googling—I know you don’t like it when I do that, but Zayn. Babe. They’re talking. They’re talking about _you_.”

A frog’s jumped into his mouth and is stuck in his throat. “Niall.”

“Oh, was that the total opposite of what you needed to hear? Shit. Um, listen…OK, just…close your eyes.”

Zayn does as he’s told.

“Just…I’m with you. I’m at that party and I’m with you and I see you and I love you.” Zayn breathes in and out. “It’s just you and me.”

“You and me.”

“Now get out there. I’m waiting.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.

*

“Did I tell you your mother called? She wants to know when we’re going up to visit.”

“We’re gonna fly over for Thanksgiving; she knows that.”

“I know, that’s what I told her, but she wanted to know if we were free during July so she can come with the girls.”

“Well, shooting for that comedy that shoots in Montreal ends the first week of July, but I think we’ll be here the rest of the month.”

“Yeah, I think that’s good. I’ll e-mail her after dinner. Hey… we should get an air mattress or something.”

“Yeah, sure.” Zayn begins replying to e-mail when he feels Niall’s eyes on him. He glances up to see Niall’s thumbnail in his mouth and a pensive look on his face. “What’s up, babe?”

“I—” Niall stops himself before moving from his place in the loveseat to take a seat next to Zayn on the couch. He takes Zayn’s tablet from his hands and places it on the coffee table before making heavy and really intense eye contact.

“You’re scaring me,” Zayn says, and he’s mostly kidding, but Niall’s cuticles look raw, and his mouth is set in a tense line.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

“Is this about not setting a date? Because I thought we agreed that our schedules are a little nutty right now and it wasn’t smart to book anything yet.”

“Yeah, that’s not it; I’m not dumping you, dum dum. I just… You remember Nora?”

“Your work wife, Nora? Yeah, I remember Nora, Niall. What’s going on?”

“Well.” Niall clears his throat before continuing. “She’s directing this movie about trans women in the 80s? She tried to get Laverne Cox but there were some scheduling issues. Anyway, um… she asked me to talk to you about it.”

“Me? Shouldn’t you be trying to find an actual trans woman?”

“No, not—you would play a cis dude, like. That wouldn’t—You know how Nora is.”

“OK, I’m confused here. What exactly is the question?”

“There’s this part, right? It’s of a sick AIDS sufferer or whatever. It wouldn’t be very big, but Nora wanted to know if you were interested…”

Zayn doesn’t say anything, just thinks about what Niall’s just said and the way his cuticles are bitten down raw. Suddenly, the way Niall hadn’t been able to sit still all day makes sense.

“It’s fine,” Niall blurts out before Zayn is able to open his mouth. “I think it would interfere with the show anyway, so—”

“Wait,” Zayn laughs. “Did I fall asleep and say ‘no’ to you just now?”

Niall turns a little redder. “No, but I—”

“Well, then…I wanna read it.”

“It’s not a very big part,” Niall says sheepishly. 

“Ok, then why are you making it a big deal?” Zayn can’t help running a soothing hand down Niall’s neck.

“Because…” Niall takes a deep breath. “Zayn, we haven’t worked together in years.”

Zayn frowns at that, because… that’s true. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Niall says, and Zayn frowns at his apparent reluctance to share this.

“And is that…would working with me be a problem?” Zayn asks, only a little scared of the answer he might get.

“Well, last time it was just some dumb commercial…”

“Niall, are you…” And it dawns on him. “Are you nervous about me seeing you work?”

Niall shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Babe…” Zayn drags him close so he’s holding Niall to his chest.

“I don’t want you to leave me when you see how much of a nerd I am.”

“Well I can’t make any promises—Ow!”

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“You’re a little funny.”

“Thanks.”

“That was an insult.”

“Was it?”

*

“If you guys don’t hurry up,” Harry calls from the common area of the hotel suite. “I’m taking the limo by myself and I’m making out with the first celebrity I find!”

“You just want an excuse to do that,” Niall yells back. Zayn can’t hear him from where he’s inspecting his beard in the restroom, but he knows Niall is probably fiddling with his cufflinks and pacing up and down their room.

“Would you chill out, babe?” Zayn says as he walks out of the bathroom. “You’re more nervous than me.”

“Of course I am; you’re never nervous.”

“You know that’s not true.” Zayn sits down on the unmade bed and begins putting on his shoes. “I’d be a mess if you guys weren’t here.”

Niall snorts out a laugh. “Yeah, I guess your first BAFTAs will do that to ya.”

“So chill, babe,” Zayn repeats, planting two feet on the carpet with finality. “We ready?”

“Yeah, just.” Niall stops pacing and levels Zayn with a long look.

“What?”

“Do you think we need some stress relief before we head out?”

“What?”

Niall settles himself on Zayn’s lap.

“Babe,” Zayn warns.

Niall starts slowly trailing soft dry kisses down his throat. “We’re both a little tense,” he mumbles against Zayn’s jugular.

“Babe,” Zayn pleads.

Niall’s hand moves down from his chest and grazes Zayn’s zipper. “It’d only take five minutes.

“Ba—” Zayn moans.

“You _guuuuyyyys…_ ” Harry’s whiny voice carries through the thin wall. “I didn’t get ready in a timely fashion just to miss Helen Mirren’s walk down the red carpet.”

Niall sighs. “Pause?”

Zayn knocks his forehead against Niall’s. “Pause.”

“You’re really serious about seducing Helen Mirren, aren’t you?” Niall observes as he walks hand in hand with Zayn out of their room. “You washed your hair, even.”

“If this”—Harry gestures down at his gapingly open blouse and tight trousers—“doesn’t work, I honestly don’t know what will.”

“I don’t know why I let you tag along too,” Zayn says.

“I'm your good luck charm,” Harry says simply, and walks out the door.

Zayn laughs. “Sure.”

“You got everything?” Niall asks before closing the door.

“Hmm.” Zayn pats his pockets. “Yeah, just…” He reaches down for Niall’s hand and laces their fingers together. “All good.”

Niall rolls his eyes, but he’s fighting down a smile. “You know, you may have everyone else fooled with the whole I’m-A-Sexy-Man-of-Mystery thing, but I know the real you, you big dork.”

Zayn starts swinging their hands back and forth as they make their way toward the elevators. “I couldn’t ever get one past you, could I?”

Niall pecks him once on the cheek, says, “Not even if you tried, baby,” and pulls him into the elevator with him.

The night ahead can go in so many different ways. Zayn could win the first major acting award of his life, they could all end up in the front page of Us Weekly, or Harry could actually hook up with Helen Mirren. Of one thing Zayn is absolutely certain, though, that at the end of it all, he’ll end up in a bed with Niall wrapped around him like a koala.

There’s no doubt in his mind about that.

**Author's Note:**

> [continuous screaming]


End file.
